In the Halls of the Elvenking
by ziggy3
Summary: Something has stirred in the Wood. There is conflict and unease in the Thranduil's stronghold and he suspects something to do with Thorin Oakenshield. But he has other things on his mind; it is time to send his son to renew his promise to the Dragon. Chapter 11:Anglach. Or naked elves and prophesies. Warning for smut. Legolas/anyone. Bilbo/Thorin implied. slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

**There and Back**.

Summary: It was one of those unfortunate oversights that a busy and rather meddlesome wizard was prone to make. So it was that when Thorin Oakenshield and his companions blunder into the feast of Wintergathering, Thranduil's reaction is not quite what Gandalf had expected. And even if he did, the result may well have been much the same anyway.

The story of There and Back Again from the Woodelves' perspective.

Note: This follows Black Arrow although it does not require you to have read that in order to enjoy this. Suffice to say that Thranduil struck a bargain with Smaug in order to retrieve the black arrow that he then gives to Bard's ancestor. In this way it is passed down to Bard so he can kill Smaug. Smaug demands that Thranduil send someone to renew the bargain every ten years. It is that time. The warriors who go to Erebor to pledge peace are called the Danedh-Amlung, Dragon's Ransom.

For Ethelefeanorian and freddie23

OCs

Laersul: The oldest son of Thranduil.

Thalos- his middle son

 **Prologue**

He knew it was time, for the dreams had started again.

 _…_ _.the huge red-gold Dragon lay coiled upon a high bed of gold and gems. His tail stretched long, far down into the shadowed halls and out of sight. It twitched slightly somewhere in the shadows and there was the sound of shifting coins, metal, treasure beyond dreams. About Smaug's claw was tangled a long string of emeralds, deepest green like the forest. Smaug breathed. Thin wisps of smoke blew out of his nostrils for his fires were low and sleepy. The eye of the Dragon was multi-facetted, iridescent, shot with a thousand lights, molten fire. He could not look away._

 _The Dragon bowed its great golden head then and a slow warmth came from him that seemed to bathe Thranduil in light and he felt an unbearable loneliness, a hunger that could not be sated, and something utterly alien. Cold fire. Deep darkness. A far song. He listened..._

 _...Wind under great bat-like wings, soaring high, higher than cloud, higher than the Moon, above the World, seeking the Great Flame beyond the Circles of the World...and falling back, falling back into darkness..._

 _He thought of a moth fluttering round a candle-flame. His was not the gift of Song though and he knew he had not fully understood…._

 _'_ _Ten years,' Smaug's voice followed him, echoed down the empty halls, reached up into the silent tiers and drifted through the dark arches, 'And you will send me your son.'_

And he had. Laersul first, and then four others until last time when he had finally sent Legolas. But it was Thalos that Smaug wanted. And Thranduil knew this time, there was no way out if he wished to keep the Dragon's Peace, the promise that Smaug would not come to the Wood, and no Woodelf would lift a weapon against the Dragon.

It kept him awake at night. He sat before the fire, empty in Spring and Summer, but he sat there anyway from habit, and steepled his long fingers and thought…It was not just the dragon's ransom this time. Something else was coming…He felt it in the Wood. The trees whispered restlessly, of some darkness that moved beneath the eaves, creeping closer. And it came not from the South, but the West. From the Misty Mountains. Thranduil did not know what it was, not yet, but he felt the Woods shudder as it passed.

He did not know what danger came from the Mountains, not yet, but he was sure of the danger that came from the South; the Necromancer. He was calling to Smaug, summing the dragon as a servant of the Dark, though Smaug had not yet answered. Smaug, thought Thranduil, remembering, was the servant of no man, or god. Smaug served himself and for the moment at least, it suited him to keep the peace with the Elves.

'You should sleep,' a voice came from the other side of the door. Galion.

'How long have you been out there eavesdropping on my thoughts?' demanded Thranduil but there was no heat his voice

'I can hear you pacing!' Gallon opened the door and strode in proprietorially, though Thranduil was not pacing but sitting quietly in the chair before the empty grate. Galion made straight for the maps that were unrolled on the table. He quirked a pleased eyebrows for little silver clips were all in place and there were not the usual odd assortment of objects keeping the maps unscrolled, and without pausing, swerved towards the narrow table and the pewter decanter that was filled wine, half filled, he corrected himself upon looking. He helped himself to a goblet, filled it to the brim and then threw himself in the comfortable chair pulled up beside the crackling fire.

The wine was not Dorwinion, Galion already knew for he put the wine out, but it was a fine vintage nonetheless.

'Thalos will go then?' He swung one leg over the arm of the chair in a vulgar position as was his custom. It made Thranduil wince at one time but no longer even noticed. 'You have to write to him then, invite him back for the Feast of Wintergathering.' Galion's bright green eyes darted up and met his own. 'But it will mean at least we have all our boys back,' he said brightly. 'Legolas was the last Danedh-Amlung, and Laersul accompanies each of them on their journey to pledge the peace with Smaug. They will all be here for Wintergathering.'

Thranduil grunted. That was true enough and a rare enough pleasure but small compensation.

'This time it feels different,' he said, not explaining the prickle that was in the fingertips and his toes. 'Something else is happening.'

'Well it's no good hoping for any help from West,' Galion swirled the wine in his goblet and belched. Thranduil looked slightly pained but he had grown used to Galion over the years and knew it was useless to try to change anything about him. 'I told you what would happen when you sent Alagos to tell them what Smaug had said to Legolas; Sit-on-your arse-Saruman will say to Sit-on-your-arse-Elrond to sit on his arse and Galadriel…'

'Enough!' Thranduil interrupted. He might say many things but Galadriel was just one of those people you never knew…or you always felt… might be listening. 'Mithrandir has ever been our friend. I am sure he will send a message when he has something to say.'

Galion screwed up his face in a dismissive way. 'I would have thought,' he said emphatically, 'that a message from the King telling him that the dragon is feeling. hearing a summons from the Necromancer in the South of the Greenwood, that even the White Council might feel a smudge of concern. But I suppose it is only Mirkwood.' He said the last word with deep bitterness.

To which Thranduil really could not find an answer.


	2. Chapter 2 Dwarves!

For Ethelefeanorian, Melusine, freddie, Nako13yeh, LayneWolf for keeping reviewing and encouraging. Thank you.

Beta: the very lovely Anarithilen.

Original Characters:

Laersul- Thranduil's oldest son

Thalos- Thranduil's middle son

Anglach- Legolas' best friend

Galadhon- a captain of Mirkwood and good friend of Thalos.

Ceredir- a warrior.

 **Chapter 1: Dwarves**

Anglach tried hard not to begrudge Legolas his good fortune at drawing the long straw which meant that Legolas got to go to the feast while he was stuck on patrol. Someone had to make sure the borders were still safe, and especially the Feast of Wintergathering when most folk were feasting in the forest glades and celebrating the Equinox. It was unfortunate for Anlgach that Galadhon had also drawn the short straw and so was leading the patrol as Anglach always felt looked down his rather long and aristocratic nose at him.

'He hates me,' Anglach whispered to Ceredir, who was the third member of their particular patrol, as they paused by the river and Galadhon told the two of them to stay put while he investigated something that had bothered him. 'Look! He won't even tell us what he is looking for in case I mess it up. He always looks morose when he knows I am on his patrol, even though I won the Arrow this time.' He knew he was whining in a manner most unbecoming for a seasoned veteran of two cycles in the East Bite under Thalos' command, and a Danedh-Amlung to boot..

'Galadhon doesn't hate you,' Ceredir grinned cheerfully at Anglach. He was older, more of Galadhon's age and much more experienced. 'He just thinks you do not focus as much when you are on home patrol. He speaks very well of you in the Bite.'

That came as a surprise to Anglach. 'Really? When did he say that?'

Ceredir shrugged. 'He often says things nice things, about you, Anglach. And Thalos…You and Legolas are always different when you are home from when you are in the Bite, why should Galadhon not be?' he said reasonably. 'We all need to let go the burden of being in the South, whether it is the South outposts or the Bite. It matters little when the Nazgûl prowl. Anyway, I don't know why you are so anxious around him,' Ceredir continued. 'He is a great commander and he knows your worth; look how you got Duinhir out of trouble with those Orcs. Galadhon wrote to Thalos about it, and he told the King.'

Suddenly he froze, and Anglach too turned his head and stared through the dark eaves towards the river.

'What in all of Eru's creation is that noise?' Ceredir said.

'Is that what Galadhon heard?' Anglach asked at the same moment and even as he spoke, Galadhon dropped down from the beech tree above them and was standing in front of them as they spoke.

'Dwarves,' he said abruptly. 'Look. On the riverbank upstream.'

'Dwarves!' Anglach could not help but be excited. He had not seen many dwarves and he thought they were fascinating. And rather sweet. The arrival of, he counted quickly, thirteen dwarves, or fourteen if you counted the smaller one at the back, at the Forest River was excitement enough to compensate Anglach for missing the feast.

The three elves stood back in the trees and watched as the gaggle of dwarves faffed about at the river's edge.

'Look! They are trying to snag the boat,' exclaimed Anglach in an excited whisper. 'Aren't they small. Look at their little boots and beards!'

'And their little axes and bows,' added Galadhon, a little more sceptically. He quirked an eyebrow at Anglach's enthusiasm. 'They are intruders, Anglach, whatever you think. The King will not be pleased.'

'Oh, he will understand their wish to visit the Wood,' Anglach said happily, silvan through and through.

Ceredir and Galadhon exchanged an unhappy look. Anglach had practically grown up with the King's youngest son, Legolas, and was almost a member of the family. He was famously and astonishingly blind to anything but the King's virtue and generosity, and did not believe that Thranduil could be anything but Good and Wise.

'Anglach, can I remind you please that dwarves will not be welcome,' Galadhon said sternly. 'It is the Feast of Wintergathering in a few days and we cannot have these Naugrim disturb our folk. I have already seen evidence that they have woken spiders with their noise. There will be hordes of them coming this way hoping for easy pickings.' He turned to Ceredir. 'Ceredir, take a message to Elfaron. He is patrolling the northern fringe. Tell him to keep a look out for spiders. Tell him the big colony near the Niphredlîn has been disturbed and may been on the move.' Ceredir gave a brief nod and immediately took off into to the woods. Quickly he disappeared amongst the beeches' silver trunks and Anglach was left with Galadhon. 'Anglach, you and I will track the dwarves and make sure they do not disturb the King's feast. You take first watch. I will take a message to Thalos. He has command of the patrols. He can let others know to be on the look out once they move out of our area.'

Very good, captain,' Anglach nodded and turned delightedly to watch the antics of the dwarves. It was almost enough to make up for missing out on the feast, he thought.

He heard Galadhon's light footsteps fade and turned to watch the dwarves. They were throwing a rope towards the old boat and he wondered why they did not follow the path until they reached New Bridge, but clearly they were in a hurry. After a couple of failed attempts to snag the boat, Anglach decided to help and he slipped silently between the trees and when the rope came hurtling through the air this time, he caught it and dropped in lightly into the boat, casting it around the bench so they were able to carefully draw it across the black enchanted water.

They made a fearsome amount of noise and several times Anglach wanted to call out and tell them to shush so they would not draw the spiders. Or Orcs. For sometimes Orcs did venture this far, but usually they were caught quickly. Finally the last of the dwarves was being pulled across the river. By this time, Anglach felt he knew them quite well; the leader was a bit grumpy and very bossy, and there was a very little fellow who didn't really look like a dwarf at all. He had no boots and big feet that were very hairy, but he was more delicate and refined than the others, and had no beard so Anglach wondered if this was a female dwarf. The last two to arrive in the boat were the two largest; one the roundest and fattest and the other the tallest and strongest, and the most threatening looking.

The tall one had got out and the fat one was standing in the boat, and all were watching anxiously as it rocked from side to side as the fat dwarf shuffled towards the prow of the boat to step onto shore, when there was the sound of flying hooves on the path. A shape of a deer came running towards them, it charged through the dwarves and gathered itself into a huge leap and sprang over their heads and over the river. It landed on the other side and ran off but suddenly there was a whizz and thwack as an arrow buried itself in the stag's side. It stumbled on for a few yards and then fell gasping to the forest floor. Anglach almost cried out but the commotion of the dwarves would have drowned any noise he made for the fat dwarf had fallen into the forest river and sunk into the darkness. Only the hood of his cloak could be seen.

But before Anglach could move and help, the dwarves had thrown the rope into the river and fat dwarf's hand had caught on the rope. They pulled him to safety and dragged him onto the bank. He was drenched of course and Anglach shook his head in sympathy for of course he was asleep under the King's enchantment now and would simply dream. He wondered what the dwarves would do for surely they would leave him? He had been told how dwarves were only interested in stones and rocks, gold and jewels. He was delighted when they took it in turns to carry the dwarf, whom he thought must be called Bombur because that word was said a lot and in a grumpy sort of way.

Distantly he could hear the dim blowing of horns in the wood and the sound of dogs baying far off. It was the hunt for the feast he thought and imagined that Galadhon must have caught up with them and been able to give his message. The hart must have been flushed out by the hunt, he realised and was cross at the waste of it, for if it was dead, the hunt had lost it and the dwarves could not retrieve it.

Anglach thought for a while about crossing the river and fetching it, but that would mean abandoning his post…

He turned back to the dwarves but they were all sitting on the ground, huddled into their cloaks and silent. Like boulders they were and he tilted his head to one side and listened to their Song…At first he could hear nothing, but gradually, he heard them; they were the clanging of hammers on metal, in the forge, the breath of the bellows and hiss of metal in water…and there, deeper than the simple daily song, was a deep note, a jealous love of their mountain…far over the lesser mountains, caverns deep, forgotten gold….

0o0o

tbc

Next: The Feast of Wintergathering - Legolas, Thranduil, Galion, Thorin Oakenshield, a cameo from Tauriel.


	3. Chapter 3 The Feast of Winter-Gathering

Danedh-Amlung: Dragon's Ransom. The name give to the warriors who are selected by Thranduil every ten years to renew the pledge he made to Smaug, that no Elf of the Wood will raise a hand against the dragon. He did this to secure the Black Arrow. (story told in Black Arrow)

 **Chapter 2: The Feast of Wintergathering**

Beneath the thick canopy of leaves that were just beginning to turn, it was dark, a thick deep darkness like velvet. It did not matter that the Elves could not see the stars, for around the clearing, flames leapt and danced from the bonfires which were lit at four places in the glade. Air, Fire, Earth and Water. The glass globe lights that were strung about the trees glimmered blue and silver for Air and Water, and red and green for Fire and Earth. It was the Winter-gathering and the Earth was turning to sleep, but the Elves danced and sang upon the smooth green sward and music was everywhere; different melodies strewn throughout the glade and throughout the many smaller glades where Elves feasted. And yet all streamed into one harmony, one Song.

The maidens had flowers wound through their hair and white gems glittered around their necks and were strung upon their dresses. Green gems flashed on the collars of the young men who danced between them, leaping and turning as the maids swayed and swirled.

At the head of the glade, the Elvenking sat on a chair that had been carved from the stump of an ancient oak blasted by lightning many, many years ago; the dead wood branches that stretched out had been carved like the antlers of a great stag, its bleached white wood like the white deer of the Wood. Thranduil wore a crown of autumn leaves and berries upon his golden hair that gleamed in the firelight like old gold coins, his eyes were slate green and laughing as bowls of wine were passed around from one hand to another and there was much laughing and singing and music. It was particularly loud and raucous from one table where the king's butler, Galion, was seated; here seemed to be even merrier, and there was rather more ribald entertainment than elsewhere. But this was the Wood, not the Valley, and here the Elves sang and laughed and feasted for a purpose- to keep away the Dark and to rejoice in the Song, which was strong, and green and thick in the air tonight.

Legolas was leaning against an ancient oak, half-tuned to its song, deep and sonorous and twining with the songs of the elves and other trees. It wrapped him in its deep green melody, and the harmonies twisted and whirled like the dancers he watched. He gulped a mouthful of wine from his cup; it was not the Dorwinion, for Thranduil would never let that be served so freely, but it was ample for a feast and mingled with the Song of the Wood. He felt quite warm and dizzy. He had fixed his gaze upon Tauriel, a Silvan maid, and was quite determined to dance with her. At last he saw that she was free of partners and pushed himself away from the tree when, in the exchange of partners, her hand was caught by one of the foresters. He was rather short for an elf but nonetheless handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed with unruly hair and thick muscles.

Legolas gave a love-lorn sigh and and looked hungrily around the glade at the maids who gathered in little bunches if they were not already dancing. The dancers whirled around the glade, scooping up elves as it swayed from one side of the glade and then back again. Two of the other maids he had been eyeing up as well as Tauriel had already been snatched up by young men

'She always liked them short,' came a voice. His older brother and captain, Thalos, stood behind him, and pushed a second cup filled with wine into Legolas' hand, his dark head close to Legolas'. 'If she waits a little longer, she can have her pick of a troop of dwarves that have been wandering about in the forest. I have told Galadhon to keep watching them.' He grinned.

'Dwarves?' Legolas kept his eyes on the maids but he was curious about the dwarves. 'What in Smaug's bowels are they doing here in the Wood?'

'Only a small party travelling East. They are on the path. Harmless I think,' Thalos said dismissively. 'In all likelihood they are on their way to the Iron Hills,' he said, his lively green eyes darting over the faces of the dancers. He lifted his cup to a few in recognition and they smiled or waved, for the handsome and dashing second son of Thranduil was well liked amongst the Wood-elves, and his subtle wit and diplomatic skills had saved many an Elf from Thranduil's displeasure. 'Although it is strange to come this way but perhaps they seek to trade in Esgaroth on the way. They were having trouble with the river according to Galadhon. One of them had fallen in and the others were carrying him. He is the fattest dwarf Galadhon has ever seen. Anglach of course, is completely besotted.' Thalos gave an amused smile and poured more wine into Legolas' cup. 'Now come, I am waiting for you to be drunk enough to make a fool of yourself as you usually do. For I cannot get drunk until father is quite cross with you and spares me.'

Legolas winced slightly at the idea of Anglach besotted with dwarves; he did have some strange ideas and he was very soft-hearted. But just then there was a burst of loud cheering and laughter from Galion's table and Legolas was distracted by the loveliness of one of the older women who sat beside Galion, laughing and pouring wine inot Galion's cup. He was grinning at her lecherously.

Thalos turned his head towards the noise and smiled. 'Galion will be under the table by now. He is sure to have Dorwinion.' He spoke fondly for Galion had almost brought them up when Thranduil was so immersed in his own grief for a while that he could not spare a thought for anyone, not even his sons. It had been Galion who wiped their tears and bandaged their knees, and Laersul who told Thalos stories of gallantry and daring, and who rocked a small Legolas to sleep when Thranduil could hardly bear to look at him. So they forgave Galion anything.

Legolas sighed again and looked deeply into his cup as if there was an answer there. 'Why is it that every time I fall in love, someone else comes along and whisks her off from under my nose.'

'And it is such a long and handsome nose!' Thalos tweaked his brother's nose and laughed at his feigned outrage. 'You did not really want Tauriel, you just wanted some company and you have me now.' He pulled his hand through his long, dark hair and batted his eyelashes coquettishly, ridiculously, and Legolas found himself laughing, as he always did with Thalos.

'Idiot,' he said giving his brother a light punch on the arm. But he could not help but sigh again, a little more heavily, for his heart ached a little in his chest and he wondered if he really had been in love with Tauriel. She was very pretty and spoke her mind and did as she pleased. Legolas had really liked her. He was just wondering whether he should tell the other maids his heart was broken so they would feel sorry for him when the dance came to an end and a new one immediately started up. A whole new wave of dancers took the floor and the clearing became a whirl of greens and browns and greys, with gems gleaming and flashing the firelight.

'No one will ever fall in love with me,' Legolas complained half heartedly, wondering where Miriel was right now and looking around for her. 'I will have to go afar to find love I just know. Lothlorien perhaps. Or Imladris. Except I hear they are as tight-buttoned and tight-laced as a dwarf's wallet,' he added glumly, for he realised that Miriel was standing with Losgar, a young warrior who had just returned from his first patrol. 'Orc's bollocks, I will have no chance there either,' he declared in disgust, glaring at Losgar. 'I will have to go to Lothlorien.'

'Adar will _never_ allow you to go to Lothlorien!' Thalos laughed. 'Galadriel will gobble you up!' He made a silly face that had Legolas laughing. 'And spit you out because you will taste horrible.'

'Well he'll never, _ever,_ let me go to Imladris,' Legolas sighed, for he, like all the young warriors, knew the stories of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, of the Sons of Thunder, Elrond's own sons who rode out on errantry to revenge their mother, and he wished he could meet these heroes from the ballads and tales.

'Not after Esgaroth,' agreed Thalos, more seriously, for it was he who had been in command at that unfortunate event.

'Honestly, I have paid for that over and over,' Legolas knew he was whining but could not help it. Would that never be laid to rest? Even though he had been Danedh-Amlung* and Thalos had not. Though he would never mention that to Thalos for that was a very sore point. 'And you know it was not my fault.'

'Hm.' Thalos stuck his nose in his goblet so he did not have to answer that one; it was ambiguous at best and Thalos had actually been there. A small group of maids strolled past them and Thalos bowed with a flourish and Legolas gave them a dazzling smile. The girls giggled and walked on.

Then several things happened at once; Thalos was laughing and Legolas had raised his cup to his lips in fake misery whilst watching a young woman opposite with merry, lustful eyes, when quite suddenly there was a commotion on the other side of the glade and Legolas turned to see a company of armed dwarves bursting into the clearing.

Legolas' hands went instantly to his knives and he leapt forwards even as the fires went out in glittering sparks, the globes dimmed and everything plunged into darkness.

All song and music had stopped and everyone melted into silence and darkness and were utterly still for the King had cast a spell of warding the moment the dwarves had blundered into the clearing. Legolas, Thalos and others went swiftly, silently to the King's side, for of course, the elves of Mirkwood could see very well even in pitch dark. It was only the dwarves who were blinded by the King's enchantment and they reached out to each other, fumbling and shouting in panic. Other warriors who were at the feast quickly circled the dwarves, waiting for the King's command.

Legolas was aghast and turned his eyes to the King. Thranduil had risen to his feet and now held up his hand for silence and stillness.

Suddenly Galadhon and his patrol appeared from the trees looking harassed and very worried. Anglach was there of course and Legolas caught his eye and winced, for this must be the patrol Thalos had put in charge of watching the dwarves. They would all bear the brunt of Thranduil's anger now. Thranduil flicked his fingers at the dwarves, who were still stumbling around blindly and shouting, blundering into trees, and clearly gestured to Galadhon that he was to drive the dwarves away. Legolas joined the warriors, feeling sorry for them and he shot a sympathetic look at Anglach, who looked particularly miserable.

'Galadhon set me to watch them,' Anglach muttered quietly as they prodded and poked the dwarves away from the clearing and in the direction of the path. 'They were all sitting down quite quietly and then just suddenly ran off into the Wood. This is the third time they have done this,' he said anxiously.

Legolas frowned at him. 'Do you mean they have attacked other feasts?' He said it quietly but there was no need for the dwarves made so much noise and commotion that he could have shouted himself and they not have heard him. To Legolas, it sounded like they were shouting 'Dorinorifilikil!" and he wondered at the strange and ugly language that was dwarvish. There was a word thrown in here and there which he thought sounded like 'bilbo…' but if it was Westron then it was heavily accented and it was only dwarves and he did not really care much what they were saying.

'You wouldn't think they could move so quickly with those little legs,' Anglach said a little defensively. 'But they can. Why in all of Arda did they leave the path? They must have been warned about the Wood, how it twists and turns the unwary and they get lost unless the King wills it otherwise.'

'They left the path so they could attack us!' Legolas said grumpily for it seemed to take forever to move any of the dwarves out of the clearing. Legolas could almost feel Thranduil's fury building. It seemed he was not the only one, for Galadhon quite roughly manhandled two of the dwarves out of the clearing and towards the path.

'They weren't attacking,' Anglach whispered insistently, gently herding the youngest looking dwarves. Carefully he guided them around a fallen tree. 'There are only thirteen of them and a smaller one. I am not sure what he is. Maybe he is a she?'

Legolas was not really interested in the gender of any of the dwarves; they were squat and ugly and very very hairy. 'Thirteen? That is not enough to defeat even one Elf let alone the whole stronghold.' He frowned as the young dwarf stumbled against him and fell back into the clearing.

'No, they were not attacking anyone.' Anglach said again. He dodged in front of the dwarf and lightly turned him back towards the trees. 'I think they are lost and hungry.'

Legolas glanced sideways at his friend; Anglach had always had an odd interest in Dwarves and now he actually looked sorry for them. 'They do not seem able to forage either,' Anglach continued as if he was writing a study or treatise on dwarves. He had suddenly seemed to forget just how much trouble he was in and had a concerned expression on his face. 'They keep saying how hungry they are.'

At that moment, Thalos joined them looking concerned. 'I _told_ Galadhon to watch the Dwarves. They had crossed the river and were supposed to be safely on their way,' Thalos whispered a little crossly. It was unusual because Galadhon and Thalos were friends in the same way that Anglach and Legolas were friends and he rarely said anything critical - but Thalos had been in the East Bite for a long time, longer than either Anglach or Legolas, and now Legolas could see that there were the signs of strain around his eyes.

'Why didn't they keep to the path?' Legolas said aloud, wondering why this group of Dwarves would venture so foolishly into the Wood in the first place when it was full of spiders and wargs and orcs, and then if they strayed off the path, they braved Thranduil himself. He would not do that, he was sure. If he were a dwarf he would stay well clear of the Woodland Realm.

'Well they showed immense courage and determination to not abandon the fat one who fell into the river.' Anglach had the same indulgent and mistaken look on his face that Legolas knew all too well. 'Don't you think…'

'No.' Both Legolas and Thalos spoke at once.

'But…'

'No. Anglach, do not do anything. Remember the last time? It was not dwarves I know, but bats. The King was not pleased,' Thalos said warningly, shoving a dwarf ahead of him. 'Legolas?' he appealed.

'It took ages to get rid of all the droppings out of my hair and clothes,' added Legolas gloomily. 'And then there was the spider. You don't know about the spider, do you, Thalos? I am not clearing up after a party of dwarves, Anglach, whatever you think.'

Anglach opened his mouth to speak but something on the other side of the glade caught his eye and all the delight and curiosity fled from his face to be replaced with misery. 'I have to go,' he said suddenly and Legolas followed his gaze to where Galadhon was beckoning silently, his face angry. Thranduil's mouth was set in a thin line and Legolas felt sorry for Galadhon who would feel the King's displeasure keenly even though it was clearly Anglach who had erred; but Thranduil somehow never blamed Anglach for anything and tolerated his foibles with an indulgence Legolas could only dream of.

The elves carefully steered the shouting, blundering dwarves from the clearing and away, so their voices grew fainter and fainter and it seemed the waiting forest swallowed them up. Legolas winced at the thought that the spiders would soon be drawn to where the dwarves were. He glanced at his father's face but knew better than to speak. No one liked dwarves, except Anglach of course. They were greedy and did not care for living things, only cold stone and plunder. And they had attacked not just this feast, but three others...But even so, he did not like to think that the spiders would have a feast of their own on the hapless group. And perhaps Anglach was right and the dwarves were only a party of merchants after all.

With a small circle of his hand, Thranduil lifted the warding spell and the globes filled with light, the fires ignited and as if of their own accord, music sprang into the air. The elves were subdued at first but Galion sent wine quickly around the clearing and before long, there was merry singing and harping and dancing on the green again.

But Galadhon and Anglach were still before the King. And he was not pleased.

0o0o


	4. Chapter 4 Anglach's dwarf

Apologies- I posted the wrong chapter so that Orcrist should follow this one.

Chapter 4: Anglach's dwarf.

Thranduil was not pleased. Legolas could see the way his mouth was set and Anglach stood with Galadhon, and was even now telling the King what had happened. Thranduil 's eyes were steel and Legolas had been on the receiving end of that look often enough to sympathise with them both. But for now, he was well away from the King's ire and he and Thalos merely spectators.

'Tonight of all nights, dwarves choose to invade us,' Thalos said with a grimace for he too would be hauled up before Thranduil, they both knew.

Thalos turned, for Galadhon was approaching and Anglach trailed behind him. Both Legolas and Thalos walked to meet their friends.

'You have survived, Galadhon,' said Thalos, clasping his oldest friend's shoulder.

Galadhon did not look happy. 'Only just, but I would rather Smaug anytime than the King when he is angry,' he muttered and both Legolas and Thalos quietly agreed. 'He is right to be.' Galadhon glared over his shoulder at Anglach who was trotting back towards them, his face downcast. 'Even better would be to tie up Anglach and send him with a pretty bow to Erebor and let Smaug have him!'

Thalos grinned sympathetically. 'He will call for me next.' He meant Thranduil, but Legolas felt a sudden unease, for Smaug had also called for Thalos and it was time, surely, for the next Danedh-Amlung to be sent. He smothered a gasp and glanced at Thalos, but he seemed unperturbed. Perhaps Thranduil had not yet spoken to him of Smaug and his pledge?

'He already has,' Galadhon was saying uncomfortably. 'Told me to tell you to see him in his study once we have dealt with this.' He gestured towards a low hump in the grass that was not a grass at all but a dwarf, deeply asleep.

'Oh! One of them fallen under the King's enchantment. I think he was the leader.' Anglach's face transformed when he saw the sleeping dwarf with an excited light in his eyes.

'That will be the first one to have broken the charmed circle,' said Legolas moodily and he kicked the dwarf with his foot but not hard, and the dwarf merely muttered in his sleep and rolled over. 'Honestly, why couldn't you have kept a closer eye on them?'

'I am sure the King will want to speak with it when it wakes!' Anglach smiled delightedly and draped his cloak over the unconscious dwarf.

'What in all of Arda are you doing?' Thalos asked. 'Legolas, have a word with your idiot friend,' he cautioned, throwing a look towards Thranduil who had also seen that tender gesture and whose face did not look as though he might understand or have any sympathy. The King leaned down and muttered something to one of the guards, Ceredir. Legolas rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. 'What is wrong with you, Anglach? You are a warrior worth ten dwarves and yet you are a complete idiot when the silliness takes you. Don't say anything though to the King about feeling sorry for the dwarves, whatever you do. He won't like it.'

At that moment, Ceredir trotted over with a grim expression. 'The King says to take that dwarf to the stronghold for questioning,' he said. He stared down at the dwarf in distaste. 'Someone needs to carry it.'

Anglach opened his mouth and before Legolas could stop him he said, 'I will!' He had a silly expression of delight on his face as he stared down at the dwarf that Legolas knew only too well.

'The King thought you might,' Ceredir said wryly. 'And he said that if you do, Legolas must go with you to stop you from doing anything daft.'

Anglach threw a hurt and puzzled look at Legolas. 'That is outrageous really considering the things _you_ have done,' he said accusingly to Legolas. 'I am quite insulted.'

Legolas glared at the dwarf and cursed under his breath. He looked around the clearing at the elves who were gradually seating themselves on the benches and sawn tree trunks, and the wine was beginning to be passed around once more. He threw the rest of his own wine into the grass. 'You owe me for this, Anglach. I am missing out on dancing with Tauriel because of this. And Miriel.' Anglach lifted a skeptical eyebrow but wisely did not speak and at just that moment, Miriel whirled past on some dashing elf's arm and gave Legolas a coquettish smile. He sighed heavily. 'Very well. I will help you escort the Dwarf to the stronghold and put him in some cupboard or something until the King returns.' Anglach gave him a quick grin. 'But I'm not taking any responsibility for this! If something happens I expect you to take the rap.'

'Come then Legolas, you take one end of the dwarf and I will take the other. You can choose since you are missing out on the feast.' said Anglach generously.

Legolas grunted and picked up the dwarf's legs. The dwarf was much heavier than he had expected for such a short race. And his boots were well made and though worn, of better quality than most. If he was a merchant, then he was a rich one indeed, Legolas thought. Then he looked more carefully. The cloak was finer than he first thought for it was weather stained and torn, ragged edges, but the fabric itself was finely woven and there was beautifully stitched embroidery where there was still a hem. He heaved the body up and shoved forwards, Anglach shuffled ahead of him and they clumsily hefted the unconscious dwarf between them, stopping often and Legolas complaining the whole journey.

Now the King's stronghold lay some miles from the edge of the forest, beneath a great hill, swathed in enchantment and magic, and about the hill the forest river ran, dark and strong. It was where Thranduil kept his treasure; his folk in times of war, and the harvest which fed all.

'When we get back, I'd quite like to talk to it, Legolas, so don't be so rough,' Anglach complained as they shoved and pushed and pulled and between them carried the remarkably heavy dwarf to the stronghold.

Legolas stared at his friend in astonishment. 'Anglach! This Naugrim attacked us. He led the attack when we and our folk were peacefully feasting in the Wood… _our_ Wood. I think he will be lucky if the King does not keep him locked up forever!'

Anglach tutted. 'They didn't really attack. I think they are starving.'

'How can they starve in the forest?' Legolas asked in astonishment. 'There is so much food here! Come on, let's get him to the stronghold and then perhaps I can return to the feast. There will be plenty of drinking and dancing by the time I return,'

'You need to acknowledge to yourself,' Anglach said with an air of wisdom that was, in Legolas' view, completely unjustified, 'that none of the maidens will dance with you while your breath stinks like a warg's fart and you have the face of the Goblin-King himself.'

Suffice to say they bickered and squabbled like two old fishwives all the way along the path towards the bridge across the river, bickering as they went and, I am afraid, dropping the dwarf a number of times because when one pushed the other did not necessarily pull. And when the one pulled, the other was not necessarily pushing. So the dwarf had a few more bruises and his hood was askew and cloak a little more torn by the time they had reached the river.

They were just crossing the bridge, when quite suddenly, the dwarf lashed out with his feet and struck Legolas on the chin. Legolas reeled back, dropping the dwarf heavily and had the dwarf not been drowsy and drugged with Thranduil's enchantment, he would have escaped. As it was, he staggered and Anglach was able to wrestle him, quite gently, to the ground and Legolas, a lot less gently and with his knee in the dwarf's back, pinned him to the ground, pulled his hands behind him and wrapped his own belt tightly around the dwarf's wrists.

How the dwarf cursed and swore, loudly and viciously in his own tongue, khuzdul, thought Legolas as he dragged the dwarf to his feet, his hand clutching his jaw for the dwarf's boots were indeed well made, with steel caps and he felt like he had been kicked by a horse. 'You can walk yourself from here,' he said in Westron and the dwarf spat something back that Legolas could not understand but was sure it was not polite.

'And I feel the same about you!' he said nastily in Westron again, certain the dwarf could understand.

But Anglach smiled kindly. 'I apologise for my friend,' he said, although the dwarf could not possibly have understood his words for Anglach's Westron was never a strong point and he had such a strong Silvan accent that it was unintelligible to anyone not born in the Wood.

Legolas snorted derisively. 'You just spoke gibberish,' he said, moving his jaw tentatively, testing for damage.

'Dehersu zirin kall' spat the dwarf, just as derisive.

The voice was deep, resonant and Legolas stared down at the dwarf for he suddenly seemed bigger somehow, more impressive. This was no mere miner it seemed… But foolish nevertheless, to think he could take a short cut through the Woods and on the King's own road without permission or even a thank you.

But Anglach was delighted. 'It spoke!' he cried jubilantly. He squatted again in front of the dwarf and smiled kindly. 'Now, are you hungry? I can get you something to eat. What do you like?' At least that is what he intended to say, but it was again, unintelligible and the dwarf just glared at him with a fire in his eyes that clearly indicated a wish for both elves to spontaneously combust. Anglach seemed completely oblivious and looked up at Legolas and said speculatively. 'Do you think they eat ordinary food like us, or do they need rocks and things?'

'Anglach, you are a complete idiot.'Legolas said with unaccustomed grumpiness. 'And I don't think you can really call that foul and ugly tongue speaking. I don't think he is being very polite or nice to you, Anglach. Come on! Let's get him into a cupboard somewhere and get back to the feast.'

The dwarf looked straight at him then, and Legolas's own eyes widened for he had only ever seen such intense dislike and hatred in the eyes of Orcs. 'Ishkhaqwi ai durugnu' said the dwarf.

'I don't know why I am bothering.' Legolas gave up and shoved the dwarf quite roughly along the bridge until they came to the stronghold doors, which were firmly closed.

Anglach murmured the words of opening and the huge stone doors swung silently open and into Thranduil's ancient and enchanted stronghold, that the Wood-elves called their palace.

Here, chambers opened one upon another and another, carved and smoothed in ancient times by water, when the river had swelled with melt water from glaciers and carved passages in caves of rose-coloured stone, and pale-green limestone, white marble and glittering quartz. The very many clefts in the limestone gave the chambers light and air, and the elves had delved these further so there were huge shafts of light that filtered through the trees and poured into the chambers and caves. Upon the steep hill were tall and ancient beech trees and their roots wound about the stone pillars and arches, until one could not see where wood finished and stone began. And so the paths between the chambers were sometimes huge roots, and sometimes sinuous stone bridges that arced through the air from one level to another, and one chamber to another. There were shallow steps cut into the limestone that led away upwards and curved about huge stone pillars, and the sound of water echoed, for there were waterfalls and streams, still pools and the river that flowed around and beneath the hillside.

Legolas heard the dwarf give a small sigh that he quickly stifled and Legolas smiled grimly. At least the dwarf had been impressed, for few had seen the halls of the Elvenking, and even fewer had been his prisoner.

And that posed a problem, for they did not have dungeons.

The same thought had occurred to Anglach because both paused and looked at each other over their prisoner's head. And there were no guards around or indeed, any other elves for everyone was at the feast or had drawn the short straw like Anglach and was guarding the feasts in case the spiders or orcs came to join looked around at the storerooms and cupboards and scratched their heads until at last Anglach found an empty storeroom that had a small grill in the door so they could look in,'and the dwarf can look out and see what is going on,' Anglach added.

Legolas sighed exasperated and shook his head. 'Honestly, Anglach. You had better not say that to anyone else. Especially not Galadhon. Or the King. They will not be happy to think that you are going soft. Next thing you'll be saying the spiders are sweet when they are spinning.' He shoved the dwarf's shoulder, intending to push him into the cupboard but the dwarf suddenly swung about and barged Anglach, pushing him right over and then kicked out at Legolas again, this time catching him on the shins. Legolas yelped with pain and shock and hurled himself after the dwarf, catching him as he scrambled down the steps towards the river. He tackled the dwarf and brought him down hard so they rolled and rolled down the steps, bumping and bruising each other. But the dwarf was hungry, thirsty and bound and it did not take Legolas long to pin him down once more. The dwarf cursed and shouted at Legolas and Legolas cursed and shouted back. Long and hard.

At last he dragged, even more roughly than before, the dwarf back up the steps and threw him bodily into the cupboard, breathing hard.

'And if I have my way, you will stay there and starve!' he shouted, holding his jaw, which he had bumped on the steps again, and feeling a loose tooth with his tongue, his cheek felt sore and his eye throbbed where the dwarf's knee had got him.

Anglach on the other hand, was staring through the bars. 'You have hurt him, Legolas!'

'Good,' Legolas growled and wanted to go in and kick the dwarf again, really hard. But he knew Thranduil would not be pleased and in his current rapture, Anglach might well tell him. He turned the key in the lock of the store room and glared at the dwarf through the bars. The dwarf glared back and shouted something at him that may, thought Legolas, have had something to do with his parentage, but he did not much care. He was going. Back to the feast and Anglach could take care of it, he thought slowly and looked at his friend. 'You can take care of it,' he said. 'I am going back to the feast.'

'Yes. You go,' said Anglach. He was standing with his hands on the bars of the door and gazing at the dwarf. He had a silly smile on his face.

Legolas knew that smile. It was the same as he had when he brought a squirrel back that he had found on the path with a hurt paw. And the same smile he had when he brought back the rabbits and shrews and mice. And the spider.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He could not leave Anglach with the dwarf. Dwarves were cleverer than spiders and look what had happened then. Thranduil had been furious.

And he loved his friend, even if it meant missing dancing with Tauriel or Miriel, for he had conveniently forgotten about the forester and Losgar and imagined himself whisking them away to dance with him, their faces turned up to him adoringly…

'Go and get it some food,' he said resigned. 'And water. And can you bring me some ice. And you had better bring soap and water as well, and bandages. And ointment.' He glanced in at the furious dwarf. 'You better bring some for him too.'

0o0o0o

Dehersu zirin kall -You strike at cold iron

'Ishkhaqwi ai durugnu - insult about Legolas' parentage and ability to produce heirs.

0o0o


	5. Chapter 5 Orcrist

Beta: Anarithilen

So many apologies everyone. I missed the LAST chapter and posted this by mistake so the new chapter is actually Anglach's dwarf, chapter 4 and this is chapter 5. FFnet is really hard for me because it doesn't let me cut and paste. Don't why.

Thank you Anar for spotting this for me:)

 **Chapter 5: Orcrist**

The feast had been quite spoiled for Thranduil and although he had given in to Anglach's suggestion/request/plea, he wished now he had had the dwarves escorted to the edge of the Wood and sent on their way. But there was something niggling away in the back of his mind.

He arrived back at his stronghold with his retinue, the excited babbling of noise and gossip of his lords and their ladies a trifle merrier than usual and more outraged because of it. Thranduil, however, was stone cold sober. He threw his cloak to Galion, and lifting the crown from his head and handing it to an attendant, he strode towards one of the audience rooms. This antechamber was deep in the caverns and away from the main throne room; here the stone had been delved and worn smooth by the fast flowing river long long ago before it retreated to pools and waterfalls under the hill, the pillars and columns twisted as if by design. There was a seam of quartz and a line of emerald running through the filigree of stalacmites and stalactites in the chamber, giving it the impression of an ethereal lake in a glade of willows. Moonlight and starlight filtered through some hidden chasm in the stone above and by the time it had filtered through trees and limestone, quartz and emerald, the light was dim and green.

Elves rushed ahead of him with torches and thrust them into the bronze sconces, but with a wave of his hand Thranduil brought the glass globes that were strung over the pillars and columns to brightness. There was a waterfall at one end and it fell like a stream of silver and filled the chamber with the sound of rushing water, falling into a wide, shallow pool that reflected the globe and torchlight.

Usually he found this chamber restful, but not tonight. It was very late, almost early, but he did not wait.

'Leave me,' he cried as he strode into the room, his retinue following in anxious attendance quickly melted away. But he pinned Thalos with a look that needed no words and his middle son followed him glumly. He saw Galadhon hesitate and glance at Thalos. Thranduil did not command him, knowing he would stay, but instead turned and flicked his fingers at the globes of light imperiously and they glowed more deeply until the chamber was bathed in a pale green radiance. In the middle of the chamber was a throne upon a dais with shallow carved steps leading up to it. He threw himself carelessly into the great carved wooden throne, its wings were carved like antlers and curved around him protectively. He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers to think; dwarves in the Wood, no mere travellers, of this he was certain.

The patrol that had failed so miserably to keep track of the dwarves hung about the doorway, silent and guilty for he had sent others to do what they could not. Thalos stood ahead of them, as he should, Thranduil noted. Legolas stood just behind Anglach, hovering anxiously on the fringes of the group. He narrowed his slate-green eyes and regarded his youngest son suspiciously. There was a bruise on his jaw and a cut on his cheek.

'The dwarf did not want to go into the storeroom, my lord,' said Legolas ruefully and Thranduil nodded. His youngest looked seriously annoyed as he spoke and cast a look at Anglach that suggested they had not agreed. It was hardly surprising, Thranduil acknowledged, for Anglach was half silly child and half dangerous warrior.

'Bring the dwarf here. I wish to speak with him.'

'Immediately my lord!' The delight on Anglach's face would be comical if it was not so worrying. Thranduil regarded him for a moment and then said, 'Legolas, go with him.'

They scurried out and Thranduil beckoned Thalos to stand before him. Thalos bowed his head. Thranduil pressed his lips together, angry that this son, so competent and strong in the East Bite, holding it for years and years against the Shadow, should be so careless when it came to home. 'I wonder if you have forgotten that even here, Captain, we are beset.' He knew the words would bite, but better his words than arrows and blades in his child's flesh. 'These dwarves attacked us three times and it seems you know they were in the Wood but did nothing to prevent it.'

He watched how Thalos bristled but he also saw the shadows in his eyes and the tiredness in his face. It softened him a little and he sighed; how much longer could they hold? How many more men did his folk have to give? And how long before it was his own sons who were brought back lifeless and cold?

And there was the Dragon still.

Ten years ago he had finally sent Legolas, after Laersul had persuaded him. And Smaug had demanded he send Thalos next….

He stirred. He had lost himself in reverie and Thalos stood before him, head bowed.

Thranduil's gaze focused and sharpened suddenly; in his son's hand was a sword he had not seen for Ages past. And he had been but a child and in Doriath, clinging to his own father's hand…

He rose to his feet and swiftly stepped down from the throne and reached for the sword.

He barely saw Thalos' wide eyes as he reached for and took the sword and in one movement, drew it from its scabbard.

 _Shrrriiinggg_

It cried shrilly as it was tugged from its jeweled scabbard.

 _Petcotumo!_

He had heard it before, that great cry of defiance and triumph! Standing outside the broken gates of Erebor, he had dreamed; there had been the clash of battle, arrows swooshed, and he had held in his hand the great sword that sang with him, clasped _his_ hand as he clasped _it_ ; _Petcotumo_! Its Song rang like a deep bell…Hot black blood spurted over his hands, over the glorious blade, and he had plunged into battle... _The Eagles are coming!_ he had heard a voice cry and around him the cry was taken up…There had been a child running across the battle field...

He knew this. He had dreamt it before. And now, as if the sword had been imprisoned or slept and suddenly awoke in his hand, its voice rang, thrilled his blood. Thranduil gazed at it in awe.

'This is Orcrist,' he said, the sword moved his tongue, spoke the words of its spirit: _I am the sword of Gondolin! I am Orcrist. I am made by the Spirit of Fire for Ecthelion of the Fountain and for his hand. I am blood. I am steel. I cleave. I strike with swiftness. I have done hurt to Valarauki and their fire. I am clasped by the hand of he who loves me. I am of the Fountain. I am steel. I am water against the fire of the Valarauki. I am …._

He came to himself when he felt Thalos' hand on his arm and blinked, breathing hard.

'Ada? Ada!'

He stared at the sword, stunned by its possession of him. Yes. Possession. It had swept over him, burst over him like a wave.

'It is Orcrist then,' said Thalos softly. 'I thought it was lost.' He stared at the sword in awe and slowly reached out to touch it. It seemed to glow under his touch and his lips parted in a breath of admiration.' This is the sword that struck down Gothmog in Gondolin, that Ecthelion carried in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad,' he breathed. Glancing up at Thranduil he smiled. 'You were speaking Quenya. It was speaking through you...You should carry it.'

The balance was perfect in his hand and the metal of the hilt was warm, an exact fit. How strange to think it should come to him like this? 'Yes. It has come to me.' He stared at the engravings upon its blade. Petcotumno. It was as it should be.

Thalos touched his father's sleeve and Thranduil blinked again. He came to himself as the sounds of a scuffle came at the entrance to the chamber. A muffled shout and stifled grunt of pain turned his head and he saw Legolas and Ceredir struggling with the dwarf, Legolas was clutching his eye. He was even more surprised to see that Legolas kicked the dwarf hard and shoved it into the chamber.

'Legolas!' Anglach tutted and shook his head disapprovingly. He was following on behind and had an air of concerned disappointment ' You cannot treat it that way. You have hurt it once already.'

Legolas muttered something and looked murderously at the dwarf but Thranduil saw how the dwarf strode into the chamber now on his own, head raised and eyes blazing defiantly and fixed upon the sword now drawn in Thranduil's hand.

'That is MY sword!' the dwarf cried and his voice was resonant. Deep like all his kin. But there was something else. Thranduil narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to look more closely. A fine cloak, boots well made if scuffed and worn. And deep, dark eyes that burned with jealous self-righteous anger.

'Orcrist?' Thranduil stepped lightly down from the dais. 'An elven blade in the hand of a Naugrim? And how did you come by it?' He lifted the blade so it flashed in the light from the globes strung between the pillars. 'You stole it,' he said, looking obliquely at the dwarf. 'For its master is long gone and Orcrist lost until now'

'It was given me,' the dwarf declared. 'And by one who had the right!'

'Who has the right unless he be of Gondolin?' Thranduil doubted very much that anyone had given the dwarf this blade; it had claimed _him,_ its song rang in his soul. No dwarf could have released the sword in that way.

He regarded the dwarf more closely. Black hair, wiry and thick but coiled into braids he had not seen since Erebor fell, and those eyes that burned with a hatred for him that he had only seen in the eyes of Orcs. Thranduil leaned closer, his slate-green eyes narrow and intent and he stared at the dwarf's face. From Erebor certainly. He did not know this dwarf...and yet...there was something familiar.

'Tell me who gave you Orcrist,' he demanded softly.

The dwarf folded his arms over his chest and planted his feet firmly on the ground. 'I have told you. It was given me by one who had the right.'

'A name. And if he does indeed have the right, I will return it when you leave,' said Thranduil. But he doubted it. Glorfindel was not the only one to have come from Gondolin, he believed, but he did not think that any elf would give the sword of Ecthelion to a mere dwarf.

'It is mine and to keep it is to steal it!' the dwarf cried. 'But that is no more than I expect from the King of Mirkwood!'

There was an outraged cry from the assembled elves. Thalos shook his head in disapproval and Legolas shouted some curse and insult. Even Anglach looked shocked. Thranduil held up his hand for silence.

'We will leave the matter of your theft for the moment,' he said. There was no point, he had already decided; dwarves were only interested in gold and jewels and stone. They had no honour, no integrity. This one was as much a liar as all the others he had ever known. But he was curious as to why the dwarves had invaded their feast...and there was a sense of something imminent, the slick oily sense of Power in the air of the glade after the dwarves had left...and yet it was not here now with this dwarf, who was clearly their leader?

'Why did you attack my people at their merry-making?' Thranduil asked, his face stern.

'We did not attack them,' the dwarf replied stonily. 'We came to beg because we were starving.'

'Where are your friends now?' Thalos came forwards and stood before the dwarf now, his arms crossed over his chest, he looked down upon the dwarf. 'What was your plan when you attacked us? There are not enough of you to defeat us?'

'I expect they are starving in the forest.'

'What did you hope to achieve by attacking us?'

'We were hoping to meet with mercy and food, as we were starving in the forest.'

'How can you be starving!' Legolas cried from the crowd. 'That is a lie!' He was still nursing his jaw and the bruise over his eye had turned purple.

The dwarf turned furiously to the gathered warriors. His voice rang throughout the chamber as if the stone itself responded to this son of Durin. 'We had no food! No water! Nothing! We were starving! We thought the elves might have pity on us, but I should have known better!' His scorn was implacable.

'What are you doing in the forest?' Thalos demanded, shooting an irritated look at Legolas for interrupting his interogation.

'Looking for food and water because we were starving.'

'What brought you into the forest at all?' demanded Thranduil.

At that, the dwarf shut his mouth and would not say another word.

Thranduil knew that look; he had three sons and Galion to deal with over the centuries and knew there was no point in questioning the dwarf further. 'Very well,' he said, turning away from the dwarf and looking at his warriors. 'Take him away and keep him safe until he feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years.'

He flicked his fingers towards the dwarf dismissively and after a moment's hesitation where the warriors hung back, Legolas gave a heavy sigh and stepped forwards to seize the dwarf and march him back out of the chamber. This time the dwarf went willingly.

Thranduil sank back down into the carved wooden throne and waved everyone away. Thalos left last with a long look at his father.

Thranduil sighed and beckoned to Galion for wine, for Galion never did as others and only did as he pleased. Thranduil rested one long hand against his forehead and thought; when the dwarves had blundered into the clearing, he had felt something like an implosion under water. Power had rippled across his own enchantment like a stone in a pool. Not magic, not the vibrant energy of the Wood, or of Water or Fire or Air. No. This was something quite different.

It was gone now.

Galion handed him a long-stemmed glass filled with good wine. He noted that Galion poured another glass for himself and drank it too quickly, filled his glass again and ignoring the disapproving looks from Thranduil, plonked himself on the shallow steps of the dais.

The dwarves had brought Power into the Wood, thought Thranduil. Their leader would be able to tell him what it was and why they had brought it. But the dwarf was intractable. He twirled the fine stem of the goblet in his long fingers. Light from the glass globes that hung between the pillars and fluting columns, the filigree of stalacmites and arches caught in the ruby ring on his fingers. His father's. He stared into it for a moment and let his sense extend beyond the stronghold and reach out into the Wood. He let his perception grow and shape into the spirit of the Wood, a white hart, and sent it flying through the trees beneath the deep canopy, flying over soft ground where the beech leaves lay thickly, leaping over the fallen trunks and between the shadows...following the silvery trail of Power as it wound and drifted and careened through the Wood...Spiders were there. The dwarves were cocooned in the spiders' webs...Softly suffocating. Slowly poisoned.

Erebor.

He knew where they were.

He knew who they were.

He knew why they had come.

 _I need time,_ he thought, for he had always known this day would come.

With a flick of his wrist and a mere thought, he sent elves after them.

0o0o

tbc


	6. Chapter 6 Bilbo Baggins

**BETA: Anarithilien. Thank you as always.**

 **Thanks to reviewers too: freddie. Ethelefeanorian, UnnamedElement, Alanic.**

 **OC** s;

Miriel - a young woman of the Wood. Legolas and Anglach's contemporary

Theliel - another woman of the Wood. Older, Laersul's contemporary.

Anglach - a friend of Legolas.

 **Chapter 5: Bilbo Baggins**

It seemed very unfair to Bilbo that he had fought off the spiders and only THEN had the elves arrived. 'Could've got here sooner,' he grumbled to himself as he stomped along after the little procession with his ring jammed onto his finger. And they _still_ did not know where Thorin was. They had only realised he was missing once Bilbo had saved them from the spiders and all feared that he may somehow still be their prisoner.

Of course the dwarf that the Wood-elves had already captured and Legolas and Anglach brought back to the stronghold, was Thorin. But Bilbo did not know that and there was not much any of them could do now for the elves marched them along at a sharp pace.

Bilbo could see Fili and Kili ahead of him but he himself of course, was invisible. Even so he didn't feel quite right walking with the dwarves and so he held back. The last elf seemed very suspicious, and kept looking back with his sharp green eyes and Bilbo could not help but duck behind a tree or bush whenever the elf glanced over his shoulder and frowned like he could smell something foul. Bilbo thought it was very bad-mannered until he reminded himself that the elf could not actually see him and so could not possibly be making faces at him.

The elf was tall and his hair was long and very dark. The other elves seemed to defer to him so he must be in charge, Bilbo thought. He was perhaps even more handsome than the other elves, like one of those marble warriors at the gates of Rivendell perhaps, Bilbo thought, and his sharp green eyes were very bright.

Then there was the sound of running water and suddenly the path ran along the forest river on one side and on the other, a steep hillside climbed. Tall beech trees, their leaves the bronze of Autumn, crowded together over the hillside and right down to the forest river, clinging about the stony shore, their roots winding and twisting into the river itself where the water flowed strong and deep. He paused to stare at it for he was very, very thirsty and so almost missed it when the elves suddenly turned to cross a bridge that spanned it. In fact, had the elves not turned to cross it, Bilbo would not even have known it was there for the eye slid off it as if it were a mere fallen log. As soon as Bilbo's feet were on the bridge however, he saw well wrought stone beneath his feet, carved about with curling vines and wreaths of oak and ash and beech. But it seemed to lead straight into the hillside.

And then to Bilbo's astonishment, a crack of golden-green light slowly appeared in the hillside at the far end of the bridge and from within was the sound of music, flutes and harps reminiscent of the feast they had stumbled upon. The huge gates to the Elvenking's palace were opening in the hillside. The gates were carved, vines and roots and branches scrolled and curled, deer and birds peered out from the carved foliage; no longer were they simply part of the hillside but lavish and ornate.

Bilbo and the dwarves stared in astonishment but where the elves prodded and shoved the dwarves towards the opening gates, Bilbo had no one prodding him and stood staring. It was only when the first dwarf disappeared through the gates that Bilbo suddenly realised he would be left behind if he were not quick.

He launched himself forward, just as the second and third dwarves were disappearing through the opening in the hillside and the first of the elvish guards. But as he ran towards the gates, it seemed they suddenly quickened their closing, almost as if they knew he was there and sought to keep him out. One after another, the dwarves disappeared into the hillside and Bilbo thought he would be left behind again.

He ran faster and was half way over the bridge.

 _You shall not pass!_

A strange, sonorous voice was in his mind and suddenly the roots and vines seemed to thrust out from the gates, reaching for him. A stag shook itself free of the stone and leapt out of the carvings as if it had been there all along and simply hiding; it ran fleetly towards him and leapt over his head. Bilbo ducked to avoid its flying hooves but suddenly there were birds too flying at him as if they too had just escaped from the stone itself, their wings beating at his face so he threw up his hands to defend himself…but when he touched them, they vanished and the air was empty between his hands. He stared. There was the sound of pounding hoofs and another stag, and another leapt at him, barely skimming over his head and he crouched on the bridge in fear.

 _You shall not pass._

It the vines then that hurled themselves at him. Thorns grew thickly along the sinuous tendrils and caught at his clothes. The trailing roots wrapped about his ankles and suddenly writhed upwards, seeking to hold him. Bilbo stared in horror and suddenly Sting was in his hand and he slashed downwards. For a moment the Gates' roots and vines drew back and Bilbo seized the moment to launch himself towards the rapidly closing gates.

 _I am not an enemy,_ he cried to himself as he leapt over the vines and roots that curled and lashed at him as he passed and the birds flocked around him, crying and beating the air with their wings. _I am just lost and want to stay with my friends._

 _No!_

He saw the gap closing and closing as the last dwarf disappeared inside and only the elves' leader was left and about to step between the gates. Bilbo ran as fast as his feet could take him, for he knew he would not be able to squeeze through as he had at the Goblin Gate.

Suddenly the elves' leader paused abruptly and turned his head to stare back along the bridge. He seemed unaware of the writhing roots and vines, the fluttering birds, but for a moment his eyes lingered upon Bilbo as he ran towards the elf. Then one of the other elves called, 'Thalos!' and the elf turned away and strode towards the gates.

There was only a narrow crack of light to show where the gates were, they were almost closed but the elf raised his hand and murmured something; the Gates froze, trembled on their hinges as if straining to obey him. He slid through the narrow gap easily and Bilbo followed, almost touching him, so close he could have felt Bilbo's breath upon his skin.

Bilbo just managed to squeeze through in much the same way as he squeezed through the front door of the Halls of the Goblins. Just as well. I lost all my buttons there, he thought ruefully, for he did not think the elves would have missed a shower of brass buttons. He dodged around Thalos and crouched in the shadows, squeezing his eyes shut and listening to his heart pounding, for the magical birds and deer of the Gates had frightened him indeed. _They were not real,_ he told himself. _Some sort of magic to frighten away those the elves did not want in their stronghold._ He thought for a moment how different was their entry to Rivendell and how well they were treated. And here they were, prisoners and fugitives, he himself skulking in the shadows like a thief.

'There is something out there, Ceredir,' Thalos said quietly to the one who had called him. 'The Gates closed too quickly, keeping something out. Did you feel it?'

The other elf, Ceredir, shot a quick look to the gates and then back to Thalos. 'There is darkness in the Wood. I can feel that. Ever since the dwarves invaded our feast. Not the Necromancer. Something else.'

Thalos grunted an agreement and shrugged. 'If anything is outside then there it will remain. I will tell Galadhon to make sure all patrols are vigilant. I am certain something was on the bridge with us but I saw nothing.'

Bilbo shrank back against the stone then, and ducked behind a column to hide. The dwarves were already far down the passage way. He could hear them cursing and protesting. But it seemed that only he had seen the magical guardians of the Gates. None of the elves had even noticed anything and yet, Bilbo thought wonderingly, elves should be able to sense things that other races could not.

He glanced down at his magic ring and wondered if it enabled him to see things unseen as well as hear things in different tongues.

'We will take them to the fourth level,' Thalos said then, nodding towards the disappearing dwarves. 'Make them secure,' he added with a pointed look. 'Although they cannot escape the King's stronghold once in here, I do not want them loose.'

He turned and shot a sudden look right at Bilbo and the hobbit quickly crouched behind his pillar. The elf shook his head slightly and then turned and followed his men. Bilbo followed closely for he did not wish to get lost in these passages, and he needed to keep an eye on the dwarves. He quickly darted from one shadowed corner to another, ducking behind pillars and corners as he went. The passages were dark and narrow but lit with flaring torches that cast shadows on the walls and at one point, Bilbo saw his own shadow loom hugely and then dwindle as he skulked past a torch.

I will need to be very careful, he thought.

And quite suddenly they emerged from the narrow passageways lit with flickering torches into an immense chamber beneath the hill. Beyond, were many more chambers such as this; he could see huge stone arches opening up from one chamber to another. The chambers were light and airy and there were many openings to the sky. A slightly greenish glow was in the light as if they were in a forest. The stalagmites or tites, whichever they were, Bilbo could never quite remember, were carved, he thought, into a semblance of great sinuous tree roots or branches; he felt he was beneath a forest rather than in a cave. This is not at all like Rivendell, Bilbo thought for the second time. And not at all like the goblin caves of course.

The elves led the dwarves through the main chambers with their soaring roofs and arcing bridges like huge tree roots, the twisting fluting pillars like slender tree trunks. At last they turned down a narrow passageway that took them deeper and twisted and turned between pillars and walls and through smooth arches that became smaller, more domestic somehow. But the sound of water was louder, a rushing pour of the forest river as it churned and flowed through the underground palace, smoothing stone, carving new passages and chambers, pooling still and silent in deep caves. Here were waterfalls too, thin streams of silver falling from one level to another.

The elves were not unkind but they clearly did not like dwarves and the dwarves, now that they were inside the stronghold and safe from any spiders and had stopped looking about at the caves in awe, they began bickering and complaining in loud voices.

'Why do you still have us bound?' That was Kili, Bilbo recognised his voice. 'We cannot go anywhere, he just said. Surely you can take off these bonds?' He turned and gave the elf leading him what Balin called his' winsome' look and what Dwalin called his 'I wouldn't hurt a fly but check your fingers after I've shaken your hand' look.

Whatever it was, it didn't work on the elf who just scowled at him and tugged on the ropes that bound them.

In the deepest part of the underground palace, which was in fact not in the least bit deep for dwarves or hobbits, there were a series of small rooms each with a grill in the door so that the elves could keep an eye on the prisoners. These dungeons, as Bilbo thought, were not a bit like he imagined dungeons; they are clean, if a little dusty, and when the dwarves arrived, there were already elves busily emptying the cells of the detritus of the last unhappy soul who had dwelt there though Bilbo, although there seemed to be a lot of candles and blankets, some feather quilts, quite a lot of chalk, all sorts of things. Each dungeon seemed to have a different thing in it so by the end, Bilbo wondered when the last prisoner had been kept there and if in fact, the elves had not been using their dungeons as store rooms!

He was hiding at this point, in a corner, while the elves pushed the dwarves into the dungeons. Dwalin pounded on the thick door with his great fists and Fili and Kili were shouting and cursing in Khuzdul and because he was wearing the Ring, Bilbo could understand every word and he felt his ears go quite hot.

The elves took no notice and continued talking in their own tongue which of course Bilbo understood in much the same way as he had understood the spiders and dwarves' oaths and curses.

'Is this going to be enough to hold them? You know what they say about dwarves.' This elf was younger than the others and sounded awestruck.

'What?' The one Thalos had called Ceredir turned to face him with a sceptical air.

'The stone sings to them.' The younger elf stared into one of the dungeons with round eyes. 'It might open for them...Imagine that, the stone just cracking open.'

Thalos snorted. He was leaning in and peering into one of the dungeons through a grill in the door. From the stream of curses in Khuzdul that made Bilbo's ears sting, he guessed it was Dwalin. 'Naurion, you are as bad as Anglach!' he declared lightly and smiled. The young warrior gave a wide smile back that was full of adoration and worship.

'I hope not, Captain. I think Anglach is sleeping outside his dwarf's cell in case he should need his hand held or brow mopped.'

Bilbo looked around, wondering which of these elves was Anglach and if he had taken to a particular dwarf, how Bilbo might be able to use that to free the dwarves.

At that moment a soft call came from further along the passage and Bilbo ducked behind a pillar for there was light approaching with the new voice and it may throw his shadow and he be discovered.

'Thalos? Your father asks for you.' An elf came trotting down the passage, a little breathless. 'You had better come now. He is not very happy.'

Clearly an unhappy father caused some consternation amongst the warriors for they all reacted by quickening their action and Thalos nodded briefly and gestured, bringing Ceredir to his side. He immediately followed the anxious messenger and left Naurion and an older elf, who was stern and looked rather cross.

'Here, you in there,' said the grumpy elf. His accent was lilting, a bit like the Hornblowers of the Southfarthing, thought Bilbo, whose voices were softened by the cultivation of pipeweed for which they were so well known. He was addressing Dwalin who paused momentarily in his thumping and pounding of the thick wooden doors. 'You waste your breath and strength. These doors are impenetrable.' He knocked his fist agains them for good measure. 'You cannot escape. Better to use your energy and speak to the King for he is good and merciful. But he is a demon if crossed.'

Dwalin gave the elf a long look and then opened his mouth and cursed him so roundly and thoroughly that Bilbo covered his ears with his hands and he could hear Ori, Dori and Nori all tutting and murmuring in the next cell. But the elf just smiled pityingly. 'You will stay here forever then and it matters not to me.'

Dwalin recommended his pounding of the doors with his great fists and shouting and then Fili and Kili joined in and it was not long before Bifur and Bofur were swearing and cursing too.

At last the Wood-elves slammed the last door shut and a huge key was turned in the last lock and Bilbo heard the dwarves muttering amongst themselves. Surprisingly there was no guard left and he was able to scuttle to the grill in the door of one of the cells. Quickly he pulled the Ring from his finger and stuffed it into his pocket...And felt suddenly bereft.

 _Ash Nazg..._

A whisper. A thrum of energy, almost sexual. His fingers reached into his pocket and stroked the smooth precious gold...Instantly the anxiety left him and he felt a strange sense of...not quite peace, but relief perhaps?

'Do you think Thorin is still in the forest?' asked a voice from within the cell. There was a heavy sigh. Fili and Kili, he guessed.

'I do not know if I hope he is or if I hope he has been captured either before or since. Either way, we are not going to get to the Mountain in time for Durin's Day.'

It pulled Bilbo back to the present and their dilemma; Thorin. He reached up to the bars of the grille and pulled himself up onto his tiptoes, trying to peer in. Instantly Kili was at the door.

'Why, Mister Baggins!' Kili's face grinned at him, dark eyes filled with glee.

Immediately Fili shoved him out of the way and grinned as well. 'You are ever a source of delight and amazement, Master Baggins!' he said.

'How are you going to get us out?'

'He has a key!' Kili's voice floated out from behind his brother. There was a cheer and the dwarves crowded round their individual doors, cheering and shouting to Bilbo.

'No! No, I haven't...Stop, I don't...'

'Bilbo, you'll let me out first?' called Bofur cheerily. His face was up at the grille and he peered out at Bilbo.

'I am sorry, it will have to be me,' came Dori's apologetic voice. 'I have to _go._ ' He said this emphatically so they would know what he meant.

'No, I haven't got...' Bilbo tried again and flapped his hands at them.

'Well done, Bilbo!' cried Balin over him. 'I knew you could not be lost!'

Just get this door open so I can crack a couple of those smug elvish bastards!' Dwalin rattled the bars.

'Will you listen!' Bilbo suddenly shouted. 'I do not have a key!'

The silence that dropped upon them was absolute and instant. Dwarvish faces clustered round their grilles in silence.

Bilbo heaved a breath. 'Not yet anyway.'

0o0o


	7. Chapter 7 The Kitchens

Beta; Anarithilen. Thank you as always for your patience and generosity.

Reviewers:

OCs:

Miriel: a young woman of Mirkwood. Legolas' contemporary

Theliel: a woman of Mirkwood. Laersul's contemporary.

Tauriel: PJ's OC

Laersul: Thranduil's oldest son - away in the South

Thalos: Thranduil's middle son. Recently returned from the East Bite

This is just a silly interlude really posted for Encairion's birthday.

 **Chapter 7: In the Halls of the Elvenking.**

Voices reached them from a narrow corridor and two women appeared with trays of food and pitchers of water, for the elves were still good folk and the King had ordered they be given food. Bilbo quickly stuffed his ring on again and hid amongst a load of small casks and barrels stacked up outside the dungeons. Another woman followed them. In Rivendell, the women were all clad in long dresses and he could not imagine a single one of them carrying any sort of weapon, whereas here, everyone he saw was armed to the teeth. These women each had two knives crossed on their backs in a sort of elegant harness, which Bilbo could not help but notice accentuated their breasts. Certainly Fili and Kili, faces still pressed against the grill, noticed and were almost leering. He could see that they were nudging each other and jostling to be at the grille. Bilbo tutted and determinedly looked at the first woman's face, which was very lovely, but rather fierce.

'Wait while I open the door,' said the fierce woman to the other two elves. She fished in her pocket for a key while the other two looked on. Her hair was chestnut borwn, almost red and her tunic did not reach her feet but seemed useful, cut to open at the front and beneath she wore some sort of deep green hose and well made soft suede boots like the other warriors seemed to wear. One of the other women put down the tray and pushed her blonde hair out of her pretty face. All three women were dressed in a similar way; useful, practical;. Beautiful.

'Are they really dwarves of Erebor?' the third one asked as they waited. She tilted her head a little and her long very dark hair fell down her back. She wore a blue tunic and soft brown boots. 'Thalos said he thought they were more than just merchants.' She smiled at the first. 'Thalos is so handsome, don't you think, Tauriel?' They spoke in their own language but after a moment, Bilbo again found he could easily understand what they said although the dwarves would not.

'He is,' agree the fierce girl. She was Tauriel, Bilbo nodded, making sure he remembered. 'But he is our captain,' she continued,' and I could never think of him in that way, Theliel.'

The dark-haired girl grinned. 'I could.' That is Theliel, Bilbo thought.

''What about Legolas then?' the blonde girl asked teasingly of Tauriel. She threw a conspiratiroal glance at Theliel. 'He was trying to dance with you at the feast but you went off with Filion. Did you see his face? Crestfallen.'

'I don't know how you saw anything at all, Miriel,' said Theliel. 'Your face was plastered to Lossar's.'

But Tauriel, the fierce one, Bilbo reminded himself, looked anxious. 'I have done nothing to give Legolas reason to pursue me. I have not encouraged him.' She looked genuinely concerned and Bilbo found himself rather liking her for her kindness. She had taken a large key from a chain at her waist and fitted it to the lock of Dwalin's dungeon.

Bilbo chewed his lip; this was their chance. Three girls. Even armed they would never be so poorly guarded again...But he thought how much trouble they would be in should the dwarves escape under their watch and so he hesitated.

Dwalin did not.

The moment the key turned, he threw himself against the door and barged through, followed immediately by Balin and Ori.

It was brief and, for the dwarves, humiliating.

The three girls pulled the knives from from their harnesses. Not just pocket knives. Long handled knives which they wielded with deadly accuracy and so fast Bilbo did not even see it before each dwarf had a knife at his throat. They stood, hands up, eyes shifting and anxious. The trays were even placed carefully out of the way as if the girls had had all the time in the world and not a drop spilled.

'Do not move dwarf or I will cut your throat,' Tauriel said dangerously. Her Westron was accented, softened consonants gave her speech a lilt.

There was an audible sigh of admiration from Kili's dungeon and a muffled thump.

'Did you think we were just little girls you could overpower and escape?' Miriel said sweetly, a dangerous glint in her eye. She tossed back her long blonde hair. 'As if we would be sent with a key if we were not the _Rondwen_?'

The third girl, Theliel, laughed and Bilbo saw that she was in fact older, her long almost black hair gleamed in the torchlight and but her dark eyes held the light of the stars and he thought she was beautiful. There was wisdom in her eyes and she regarded Dwalin, whom she held, with amusement. 'Back in the cupboard, dwarf,' she nudged him with her foot. 'We will still feed you in spite of your bad manners.'

The three dwarves shuffled grudgingly into the cell and stood back while the blonde one. Miriel, placed bread, cheese, fruit and a pitcher of water in their cell. When Theliel closed the door with a heavy clang, she looked through the grille with a wry smile and raised eyebrow.

'You thought because we are women we have no strength. But this is the Wood. Here we all fight.'

'I think you need to come and subdue me,' Kili said, his eyes wide and ardent as Tauriel entered his cell and stood back for Theliel to place the same rations before him and Fili. 'You don't know what I might have in my trousers.'

'Not much,' Tauriel replied with a dismissive look. But Kili sighed and clutched his hand over his heart.

'More than I had before I saw you!'

The other two girls laughed and shook their heads. 'You have a smooth tongue for a dwarf,' Theliel said, her dark eyes bright with mirth.

'I certainly do,' Kili waggled his eyebrows leeringly and Fili shoved him out of the way and bowed low.

'So do I,' he said.

'You two want to watch yourselves, you're so sharp you might cut yourselves,' Theliel replied. She took a pitcher of water and set it down in their cell and Miriel placed the same food in their cell as she had in Dwalin's.

'I am already wounded!' Kili sighed and clutched at his heart in an exagerrated manner but his eyes lingered on Tauriel and she did not look away. Fili was grinning away at Miriel and then Theliel but both tossed their heads and laughed.

'Come,' Tauriel said, suddenly turning on her heel.' These dwarves 'These dwarves think they are going to persuade us somehow to give up the key.' She slammed the door shut and glared through the grill. 'With their irresistible charm.'

'The only key I want is the one to your heart.' This time it was Fili and there was a collective groan from the other dwarves and the girls rolled their eyes at each other, but they shared a smile too. It united them in a strange moment and Bilbo paused, watched. He thought that maybe if he could find Thorin, or they told the elves what their quest was, that perhaps they might actually help them. They were not so different.

The girls left then, but Tauriel looked back over her shoulder and she did not glare when her eyes caught Kili's.

0o0o

Listening to the dwarves tearing at their food hungrily made Bilbo realise how empty was his own stomach and although each dwarf pushed some food through the bars of their grilles to Bilbo, they could not get a pitcher of water through and so Bilbo said that he was going to explore and would come back later.

He began by following the passage the women had taken, thinking it might lead him to the kitchens. Soon he could smell baking bread and all manner of good things. Though he was a hobbit, he had not been eating like one for a very long time. Now his stomach growled most grumpily and he clutched his belly to try to still it.

The light coming from the kitchen was warm and golden, firelight and torchlight, for evening had fallen outside in the Wood. There was a happy sound of clattering plates and the slamming of oven doors and cupboards.

Bilbo's mouth watered and his tummy growled again. He clutched his hands over it again, hoping no one would hear.

There were two elves in the kitchen.

One was banging pots around in a loud and bad tempered manner and the other, much younger than the first, was seated on a wide bench at the long wooden table. His elbows were resting on the table and he was grinning brightly, his eyes merry and his handsome face bright with mischief. Bilbo thought he had seen the young elf at the feast, running past him and bursting into the glade. He had looked upset at the time. Now he was grinning mischeviously.

'...you are a rascal!' the older elf was saying but though he seemed bad tempered, Bilbo saw a slight smile pull the corners of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up and he was pounding dough on the floured surface of the table. 'You'll be found out and in trouble if the King hears how you have been spoiling him. He was most insistent you did not see this one as a pet. It is lucky for you I am making my rabbit pie.'

'Legolas' favourite,' the younger said with a wicked gleam in his eye. 'He loves it more. Talks about it all the time in the Bite.'

Bilbo had no idea what the Bite was and did not realise that if he had only remembered the maps he loved, he would know that the Bite was the East Bite, a part of Mirkwood far in the South. He did not either how very dangerous it was and that the younger elf and his friend had just returned from a long stint defending it from the Shadow.

The cook slammed a rolling pin down on the pastry in an alarming way and pressed it into a thick crust. Then he flipped it expertly over the top of an unappetising grey meat paste that poor Bilbo would have eaten raw. 'Well this one is for him then,' said the cook generously.

Suddenly there was a flurry of noise and doors banging, footsteps and loud voices calling, singing. Other elves bustled into the kitchen, aprons were flapped and cupboards thrown open, plates and bowls were banged on tables.

'Galion! What are you doing in the kitchen?' a tall elf demanded. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. 'If Úroch finds you in here he won't be happy. Are you making rabbit pie?'

'Someone has to make sure the King and his sons have proper food in their bellies,' Galion said defiantly, slamming pastry onto the table for emphasis. Bilbo, who enjoyed baking, winced at how heavy-handed he was, and especially for an elf! That pastry was going to be hard.

'Good thing they are not swimming in the river then with that in their bellies!' said the tall elf. 'They'd sink like a stone.'

'It'll break their teeth though,' laughed a second elf. He had dark hair tied back into a single braid as did most of the cooks, and bright green eyes.

At that the young elf who had been with Galion stood up, and retorted quickly. 'I'll break _your_ teeth, Malchir, if you talk like that again to Galion!'

At that, some of the other elves paused to glance at them but most merely smiled and carried on with their work. Vegatables were brought out from a storeroom and water pumped into basins and sinks. Baking trays and bowls and huge saucepans carried by slender girls and plonked on the huge range on one side of the kitchen.

Malchir, who was the dark-haired elf with the braid, laughed and held up his hands appeasingly.

Galion grinned wolfishly and said, 'Now Anglach, I appreciate your concern but I am quite capable of breaking this one's teeth on my own.'

'Just give him your pie!' the tall elf said and there was a smatter of laughter, but it was not unkind and most of the elves did not stop what they were doing. Anglach stood up again, his face angry but Galion patted him kindly on the arm and looked indulgently at the kitchen elves.

'I know it is hard for you that the King prefers my rabbit pie to any of your delicacies and dainty treats but there you are,' he declared loudly enough for them all to hear above the noise of the kitchen. 'Hearty wholesome food. And Laersul will be home soon and all the family be together. You have the Feast of Starlight to look forward to so I will forgive you your jealous jibes. ' He bowed courteously at first the dark elf and then the tall one, 'Malchir. Damroch.'

'Peace then, Galion,' Damroch, the tall elf, said. 'Here. Let me put it in the over for you.'

He took the pie dish from Galion and spun the dish lightly on his hand, studying it appraisingly. Then he turned towards the huge hearth and stepped carefully past the fire pit. There was a small iron door in the wall of the chimney and when Damroch opened the door, Bilbo saw that it was a large bread oven set into the chimney, the chamber glowing red-gold and it was filled with fresh rising loaves, golden crusted pies and tarts, crumbles and pastries, and all manner of good things were spread out within.

Damroch carefully placed the pie dish amongst the good things within and then turned, wiping his hands on his apron and smiling. 'I will make sure that your pie is served at the top table, Galion and no other.' He grinned at Anglach. 'Then you can be sure that Anglach and Legolas get their favourite. Although I think we had best make sure the King has some of these other dishes; you are not the only one who wishes to cook for the King. But Anglach, we will make sure you have as much rabbit pie as you can eat.'

There was another smatter of light laughter and some of the women glanced sympathetically at Anglach.

Anglach was too busy glaring at Malchir to notice. He folded his arms aggressively. 'Good. Make sure you do,' he said.

'Oh, I will,' replied Malchir, clearly enjoying himself. He stood in a mirror pose to Anglach, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back slightly on his heels.

'Good.' Anglach repeated. He pressed his lips together. 'Although it is Legolas' favourite and we must make sure he has enough,' he added as an afterthought.

'Oh, there is half a pie each!' declared Damroch. He turned innocently to one of the girls hovering behind and laughing shyly. 'Lhachwen, make sure that Anglach has half this pie and that Legolas has the other. Oh, and the King has a little too,' he added. 'But the King has said he wanted roast boar tonight with cranberries and roasted roots, turnip mashed with cream and butter and flavoured with a little parsley, those venison pastries you like so much, Anglach, and then caramelised shallots. There are all the usual roasted potatoes and fresh peas, beans and carrots of course.' He grinned widely. 'Once you have eaten the pie we will bring anything else you want but I think half a whole pie will probably keep you busy most of the time.'

'Thank you.' Anglach bared his teeth. Bilbo's tummy growled again, this time quite loudly although none of the elves looked around for there was quite a lot of noise in the kitchen.

'And if there's any left,' Malchir said, 'that dwarf of yours can have it.'

 _Dwarves_ , thought Bilbo pedantically. There are thirteen of them. ..No, he thought sadly. Twelve. For Thorin's whereabouts was still unknown and he hoped that Thorin had not been eaten by the spiders. And then he had a thought. Perhaps Thorin was here too?

0o0o


	8. Chapter 8 The son of the Elvenking

Thank you to my very very lovely beta, Anarithilen.

Note: Reminder that the Ring has the property of allowing its wearer to understand other languages - hence Bilbo understood the spiders and elves.

 **Chapter 8: The Sons of the Elvenking.**

Bilbo found that by following one elf in particular, he got to know his way around the stronghold and also got to know a lot of elves. His particular elf was called Legolas. He was popular and flirtatious, the equivalent of a tweenager, Bilbo guessed, and had rather a lot of romantic interests.

There was Miriel, the girl who brought food to the dwarves in the evenings, another one brought food in the morning, …. And an entirely different girl brought food at midday. Legolas was romantically involved, interested or in love with all of them…And some of the men too…Which was an eye opener to Bilbo and no mistake.

In fact, one evening, Bilbo had wandered off and now was finding his way back to Legolas' rooms. He almost bumped into one of Legolas' closest friends, Anglach, and decided to join him, albeit slightly behind him and silent. They passed another elf, Ceredir, who Bilbo had got to know and rather liked for he was a guard of the dwarves but never got cross or unkind, but regarded them with slight bemusement.

Anglach and Ceredir passed the time of day and Anglach ran lightly up the shallow limestone steps towards the quarters Legolas lived in. Here they were very close to the surface, and the passageway was light and airy, for every now and again a huge opening was in the wall and one could look out over the forest. It seemed the hillside was full of caverns and the cliff walls were pocked with caves and opening which had been carved by the elves into arched windows and balconies. There were many waterfalls although they were narrow streams of silver water and not at all like the roaring torrents of Rivendell. This passageway to Legolas' rooms was particularly light and there were many openings. Anglach lived nearby.

They heard a light laugh that Bilbo recognised as Legolas' and then another, a girl's laugh. That, he thought, was probably Miriel for she and Legolas had been flirting outrageously and she had been making eyes at him all the evening before.

Ahead of them then they saw Legolas. He wore his customary green suede tunic and boots and his long blond hair swung down his back. It was lighter than Miriel's. She leaned against him and wound her arm about his waist.

Anglach hesitated at the precise moment Bilbo did, and then someone else came into view. He was not quite as tall as Legolas and had long black hair. Bilbo did not know him but Anglach breathed, 'Lossar!'. His voice filled with alarm.

Ah, this was Miriel's sweetheart as Bilbo understood and he caught his breath, for surely the man would be furious at catching his beloved with Legolas?

But to his astonishment, Bilbo saw Lossar step slowly towards Legolas and instead of demanding to know what was going on, he slid his hand in beneath Legolas' tunic and judging by the way Legolas gasped and bit his lip, it was not an unfriendly gesture or indeed unwelcome. Miriel laughed then and pulled Legolas towards her, sliding his arms closer about his waist. He looked down at her and then his eyes fluttered towards Lossar who leaned in and kissed Legolas.

'Oh Elbereith's tits,' muttered Anglach.

Bilbo was shocked at the language but he had heard much worse from Galion by now for the Ring had certainly meant he could understand everything the elves said, much as he had understood the spiders. He had therefore become rather immune to the swearing, but he could not tear his eyes away from the sight of the three elves entwined now and oblivious to all else. Legolas' hand was fumbling for the doorknob of his rooms but seemed unable to tear himself away from first Miriel's lips, and then Lossar's.

Behind them came a heavy tread, heavy for an elf but light as a feather for a dwarf at least and Anglach and Bilbo, who could not help but be concerned for his elf-friend as he thought of Legolas, spun round.

The words Anglach uttered then would have made even Galion blush but before Bilbo could put his hands over his ears, a regal looking elf came into view. His eyes were downcast and reading from a scroll in one hand and he strode up the steps, two at a time, not even looking up. His hair was golden, heavy and upon his hand was a rich ruby set in antique gold upon his finger. Another smaller one of emerald say on his other finger and he was taller than any elf Bilbo had yet seen, and powerful. His brows were very dark and he wore a crimson tunic that reached his knees, dark brown boots of fine leather scrolled and embossed, and his long heavy gold hair was caught in the same braids as Legolas. This, Bilbo recognised, was the same elf who had worn a crown of autumn leaves and berries and sat upon a wooden chair at the feast the dwarves had blundered into. This, he thought, must be Thranduil, the Elven King.

Anglach sprang in front of him and the king looked up in surprise.

'Anglach?' His voice was resonant and deep, it seemed to reach into Bilbo's soul…And the Ring thrummed, reverberated at the sound, sent a whisper of excitement into the pit of Bilbo's stomach.

He felt an immense urge to take the Ring from his finger and fall before this man on his knees. His hand was already on the Ring and about to pull it from his finger when the elf suddenly looked straight at him.

He could see him! Bilbo scrambled away, but the passageway was smooth and there were no corners or niches. There was only…

The door to Legolas' room was just closing. It seemed he had managed to get the door open and the three elves had fallen into the room just before they were seen. Bilbo scrambled in after them and lay panting on the floor, catching his breath, holding his own hand and clutching the Ring.

'…Eru, the king!' Miriel was gasping. She wriggled out of Legolas' grasp and backed away.

Bilbo felt like going with her- that was Thranduil, the king!

'…is outside, not in here,' Legolas panted. His eyes were half closed in lust and Bilbo could see an impressive tenting in his breeches. 'Come here,' he said and grabbed her hand, pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. She struggled and pushed him away.

'Stop it, Legolas. The King is out there! Anglach is with him. He is bound to come in!'

She flew to the large open casement and leaned out. She threw her leg over the sill and Legolas darted forwards and caught her before she leapt out.

'Wait. There is another way if you are really determined to leave,' he cried.

'I am,' Miriel said flatly. 'I am not waiting around here for the King to catch me with his son and his guard.' Lossar grinned at Legolas, who grinned back.

'He won't come in, 'Legolas said. 'He wouldn't. Not unless I invite him.'

Miriel seemed to yield a little and Legolas pushed his advantage. 'I promise you. He is very careful to give me my privacy. He knows how hard it is in the South,' he said plaintively, winningly. 'He knows how lonely it is and how you have to have something warm to hold onto, to remind you why you are fighting.'

Miriel's shoulders dropped a little and she tilted her head slightly, listening. Legolas pushed his hand through her hair and watched her face, while Lossar stretched out on the wide bed and kicked off his boots. He pulled the thong from his hair and let it cascade freely over his shoulders and loosened the ties to his shirt, pulling it slightly open.

'Miriel,' he called softly. 'Come here.' She shifted and glanced at Legolas from under her lashes and then at Lossar.

'Go on, 'Legolas said and gave her the slightest push. She went and even as she knelt on the bed, Legolas leapt beside her and they all went tumbling down together.

Bilbo turned away, his face hot and red with embarrassment, but he could not block out the moans and cries and whispered… no, the yelps of lust and desire. The moans and panting ecstasy.

The King of course, did not enter the room. And Bilbo had to just sit and wait until it was all over.

It did give him time to think…as if he did not already have enough of that.

So, Legolas was the King's son. That surprised him for the elf never acted like a Prince.. Not that Bilbo knew how Princes were supposed to act for they had no Princes in the Shire. And no one called Legolas Prince, or Highness or even my lord…Bilbo mused. But that was the same with the King's other son, Thalos.

Bilbo had managed to creep into a feast once, or it seemed like a feast to Bilbo anyway. A lot of elves had been eating and drinking and laughing and singing. Although the King had not been there but Galion, his butler, had been. And Legolas and his friend. Anglach had been there. They had all been very drunk. It had made Bilbo feel a little lonely and he had gone back to see the dwarves then but they were asleep and Bilbo had given up and sneaked down tot he kitchen to steal food.

It was that that had upset him the most; a burglar he could cope with, but it was the word sneak that he disliked. It reminded him of Gollum for some reason…and he had taken off the Ring then and found a corner in which to hide… but he felt naked and vulnerable. The elves' eyes were piercing and sharp and he felt too anxious without the Ring… it almost hummed in his pocket until he put it on again.

Now he could have made as much noise as he liked and no one would have heard him. The three elves were far too busy. So he walked quietly about Legolas' room. It was light and airy with long shafts in the roof that let green -tinged light pour through from the forest. There were few furnishings or decoration; a large wooden chest, a looking glass, and avery large bed which contained the three elves more than easily. Bilbo tried to avoid that. He looked instead at the white knives in an ornate and scrolled harness that was carefully stowed in a rack that seemed made for it. There was a bow too, long and beautifully made. And a sling that made Bilbo's hadns itch for he had beena crack shot in Hobbiton and won many a fete competition between the local lads in Bywater and the Smials. He sighed and felt even lonelier.

'What am I doing on this quest?' he asked himself. 'Why in all of the Shire did Gandalf pick me?'

A sudden image burst into his mind then...

 _Bilbo the Great. Bilbo, Dragon-Slayer. Thief of the Mountain. Returning from his great adventure laden with gold and jewels. Dressed like a Prince by the Dwarves of Erebor, a mail shirt gleaming under his rich tunic, gold rings upon his fingers, emeralds about his neck._

 _All this can be yours if you choose..._

Suddenly there was a flurry and a head poked up from the sheets. Legolas struggled up, his hair mussed and sticking up. His eyes scanned the room,sharp and alert. Bilbo froze.

'What?' a female voice demanded. Miriel emerged then, flushed and lips full and moist. Her golden hair was ruffled and unkempt but she looked lovely for it even so.

But Legolas had struggled out of the sheets and stood naked as the day he was born. His long, lean body was painted, Bilbo saw, with swirls and curlicues and abstracts in a wild whirl of colour. Bilbo stared for he had never seen anything like it. There was a long trail of colour and pattern that started at his shoulder and spread over one side of his chest, his heart, like a benediction. It curled about his hard, lean torso and coiled about his hips, his thigh, trailed down one leg. Like a serpent had curled about him and leaned its head over his shoulder. But it was rich and pwerful. A totem perhaps? A sign of power? But now Legolas strode straight towards Bilbo, his long green eyes fixed on the space above Bilbo's head. He stopped suddenly and turned abruptly.

Now Lossar too was sitting upright. He pulled his hair back.

'Did you feel it too?' Legolas demanded.

'I felt something,' Lossar grinned lecherously and stroked himself but Legolas frowned.

'What?' Lossar was more alert now. He threw the sheets off himself and swung his long legs over the side of the bed.

Legolas looked confused. He stepped lightly towards Bilbo and then stopped. Bilbo froze, shrank back against the rack of weapons.

'I..I felt something...A disturbance in the Song,' Legolas said uncertainly. 'It was like being in the South.' He licked his lips and frowned. 'It feels...greasy. The Air. When the Nazgûl have passed through.' He turned towards Lossar who now stood. He too had markings upon his body; they were not as rich or complex as Legolas' but beautiful and ornate nonetheless.

'I have never been close to Dol Guldûr,' he said with concern. He shook his head. 'I see nothing...hear nothing...'

As soon as he said that, Legolas cut his hand through the air demanding silence. Bilbo held his breath. Legolas leaned forwards, listening intently.

There was absolute silence. Absolute focus from the two elves and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and imagined himself not only invisible, but gone...

And there was nothing.

He was simply...not _there._ As if he were looking though a pool or glass and could see the two elves standing frozen and silent. Both leaning forwards slightly and listening intently.

And then abruptly Legolas turned and spoke to Lossar but Bilbo could not hear what they were saying.

The Hobbit stared, open-mouthed and astonished. How did he...? How did that just happen?

And how did he get back?

He looked down at the Ring. And thought there was an inscription on the pure smooth gold...but he did not recognise the script. Even so, words formed in his mind and the Ring's magical property that enabled him to understand the spiders and elves, allowed him to comprehend the words now. He found his mouth forming the words...

 _Ash Nazg..._

 _S_ uddenly he was looking down a long tunnel and the trees bent inwards, distorted like looking into a disturbed pool, sepia, sedge-brown.

Ash nazg...

A long indrawn breath... _At laaaaassssttt...Precious..._

Terror seized him then and he felt like his very soul was being pulled from his body. Frantically Bilbo puled off the Ring and ...

He stumbled. Over the carved and delicate rack of weapons. Everything crashed sideways, so the knives clattered from the rack and the bow skittered across the stone floor. He threw out his hands to ward off the inevitable discovery, could not stifle the cry that burst from him, the relief that he was here and not in that dreadful place where Something had awoken, had been waiting patiently for so long, long, long years beyond any thought of Bilbo very dark. Very deep. And it knew he had the Ring.

The room was empty.

Darkness had crept into the stronghold and long shadows were cast over the smooth limestone floor so it had the slight greenish tinge that made Bilbo think he was under a forest and not under the ground. The elves though, had long gone.

'I must have been in that place for hours,' he thought with a growing sense of horror, and of absolute relief. He sat on the fur rug that spread before the empty fireplace and rested his elbows on his knees. Breathing slowly he thought, 'Perhaps if I surrender to the Elvenking, I could bargain with him perhaps. Promise him my share of the treasure to let us go.'

He thought too that the elves would know what to do with the Ring. It was in his pocket again. Pressed softly against him. Just a ring. And it was smooth and pure. Such gold.

He found himself wanting to put it on again, just to check it was safe. He had been wearing it constantly for days in end and now his finger felt bare...but the memory of that place was too stark and too soon and he crawled into a cupboard that had stiff material and heavy brocade and seemed very little used. Curled up in the smallest ball a hobbit could make, Bilbo fell asleep.

 _0o0o0o_

 _tbc_


	9. Chapter 9 Danedh-Amlung

Beta: The fabulous Anarithilien.

Apologies for the very long delay but hopefully I'll get a lot done over the next few weeks.

Note and reminder: Thranduil's memories of Smaug are taken from 'Black Arrow' where Thranduil makes a bargain with Smaug to keep peace between the dragon and the Wood. The price is that Thranduil sends a young warrior to renew the peace every ten years. Legolas and Anglach have both been Danedh-Amlung. Legolas went last and Smaug demanded that Thalos be the next. Thranduil has been trying to avoid sending Thalos for seventy years or more.

 **Chapter 8 : Dragon's Ransom**

Bilbo thought at first that he was dreaming of the meadows of the Shire, new cut sweetness and shady woods. But soon he was drifting along a river, trailing his hand in the cool water and there were ferns growing thickly in the clefts in the grey granite rocks, moss climbed over the stones near the shore of the river and Bilbo knew somehow that this was the forest river winding its way through the Wood, pouring into little pools and winding through shady dells.

He awoke slowly and a little confused, but refreshed and feeling more himself that he had for a while, and found that he was not in a light skiff on the river but in a cupboard, a faint smell of leather and suede, and a scent of meadowgrass and hay that he recognised as Legolas, for it was Legolas' wardrobe. Bilbo pushed agaisn tthe cloth, his fingers touching suede and then linen, and shoved at the very back was stiff brocade and satin. But there was velvet too and silk. So not just a warrior of the Wood after all, the son of the King must have occasions for which he was required to be dressed in more than just hunting tunic and breeches, thought Bilbo fondly, for he felt he knew Legolas well, liked him.

Carefully he pushed open the cupboard door a little wider and peered out from between the stiff robes. He took a deep breath and slowly put his foot onto the floor and eased himself around the wardrobe door and into the room.

Torches began to flicker for they lit by magic as soon as the sun began to fade andthe light was a dim green light like sunlight in the forest.. But now in the evening, it cast shadows about the room and the rumpled sheets where the elves had disported themselves earlier, looked sinuous and fluid, as if they might move.

Slowly he opened up his hand and stared at the Ring cradled in his palm.

Light shone on the gold. Such pure gold. So smooth…But his hand clenched over it again. No. He did not want to put it on again. He could not bear to be in That Place again. Suddenly he wanted to be amongst the dwarves, or elves- anything not to be alone with that voice that had spoken in his head, had seemed to reach out long fingers of darkness and grope for him …

He scuttled over to the door and hurled himself through it, slammed it shut behind him and leaned against it breathing hard. He determined to find the King and hand over the Ring. There was something in the Ring. Something dark, too dark for him.

The passageway was dimly lit and forest-like, the same as Legolas' rooms, and Bilbo shrank against the walls hoping that no one was coming. The Ring was clutched tightly in his hand but he did not want to put it on again. No, he thought, I would rather throw myself on the mercy of the King and promise him my share of the treasure if he will let us all go.

And just like that, it all made sense.

He stood away from the wall, even beginning to hope someone did come so he could hand over the Ring and talk to the elves properly. He began to hope it was Anglach who would find him. And suddenly he could understand why the King wanted to know the reason for the dwarves' journey through his kingdom. It was completely reasonable to be angered by their invasion of the elves' feasting, for they had not stood beyond the circle and coughed politely to announce their presence as Bilbo himself would have done. No, they had blundered in shouting and waving their arms around and making merry hell. Bilbo tutted. Dwalin had absolutely no manners at all and the others were not very polite either. It was no wonder the elves had rounded them up and stuck them in prison.

Bilbo nodded to himself and resolved to hand himself over to the first elf he saw. It would be best if it were Thalos or Anglach, he told himself. They would listen and be kindly. He pattered along the green dimly- lit passageway, shaking his head to himself and bemoaning the dwarves' lack of courtesy. They were just the same as when they arrived in Bag End, he thought. Just as rude and insistent.

 _But you did not put them into a cell…You fed them and then were hoping to send them on their way._

Yes. He nodded to himself. But that is because I did not have a prison to put them into, he found himself saying to himself in answer to the strange quiet voice in his head.

 _You could have called the Night Watch_

Well yes I could. But that would have been ridiculous. And the dwarves are quite harmless really.

 _The Elves do not think so…there is a long emnity between them._

Bilbo paused. The voice in his head was so reasonable, he thought. There was a long hatred between the elves and dwarves… look at how the dwarves behaved in Rivendell and those elves were entirely friendly….

He bowed his head and looked again at the Ring.

 _What would you say to Thorin?_

Yes. Bilbo stopped dead. He realised he had the ring out, cradling it in the palm of his hand and looking down at it carefully.

'What would I say to Thorin?'

There was nothing he could say to Thorin that did not involve betrayal…And by now, Bilbo knew well enough that Thorin's heart was jealous and hot. If he thought Bilbo had given something to the elves that he could have given Thorin it would be betrayal.

It was Thorin who held something in Bilbo that he could not account for. It set his heart running and spoke to something deep in his blood and bones. Something...Tookish. Almost dwarvish...but there was more to it than just adventure. Thorin inspired something in Bilbo that was both awe and fear, and love.

No. He could not give the Ring to Thranduil. Instead he should give it to Thorin. Then Thorin could escape and become King Under the Mountain. Like he wanted.

If only he knew where Thorin was.

By the time he had walked a little way along the passage, Bilbo had thought through all these things. And without even realising it, the Ring slipped onto his finger.

The Ring would protect both Bilbo and Thorin. Thorin as King Under the Mountain would be magnificent, a worthy recipient of the Ring. He nodded to himself. It would help Thorin, keep him safe as it had Bilbo. It had taken him to a Place it thought would keep him safe. But he would know for next time and he was forewarned about the Presence that sensed him when he was there. It did not mean him harm…

The Ring was warm on his finger, fed him, soothed his nerves, settled into a quiet hum.

 _And here it will stay, he thought, my precious ring…_

Further along the passageway was a thick oak door, half open. He had been along this passageway before but this door had always been firmly shut. He crept in and found an unoccupied room. It was a study clearly for there was a table with lots of unrolled maps held open by a variety of implements, a goblet, a small pewter pitcher, a paperweight. There was a small bowl filled with silver clasps beside it.

The map that was unrolled and open showed the forest, the river flowing into a long lake and the Lonely Mountain. An inscription had been added to it: Smaug, it said simply.

Smaug. They had got all this way and not even met the dragon yet, Bilbo thought. He turned to look about the room and saw that a tray had been left near the hearth. Upon it was a plate with a pie that had gone cold, a sliver had been taken out but most was left in the pie dish. A small flagon of wine stood beside it and a half empty glass of red wine.

Bilbo could not help himself for he was suddenly very, very hungry. It had been long hours since he had last eaten and whilst he had grown used to frugal rations out in the Wilds with the dwarves, since he had been in the Elvenking's halls he had eaten well and become quite hobbit-like again. And he had been in that Place...who knew for how long. He shuddered. Before he had really thought about it, he had dug out a big slice of pie and devoured it, swallowing before he had really even chewed it...And then he slowed down, for the taste flooded his mouth; it was Galion's of course. The pie they had been bickering about in the kitchen earlier and now Bilbo realised why Legolas had been so keen that Anglach should have it and not him. Looking down he saw that the filling was a grey paste and the taste in his mouth was watery and whilst not completely inedible, especially for a hungry hobbit, the meat was over-salted and under-cooked. He wrinkled his nose but he was starving and it was food.

Perching on the edge of a tapestried footstool, he picked up the knife again. Carefully he trimmed the edges of the remaining pie so it looked like someone had cut it and not just gobbled it up. And then trimmed a little more and a little more until he realised about half the pie was gone.

He pressed his lips together and thought that perhaps he was doing the occupier of the study a favour for Bilbo might not have eaten it at all if he had not been so hungry.

Perching on a tapestried footstool at the foot of a comfortably upholstered armchair pulled up near a crackling fire, he looked about the study with more interest now. There was a fire blazing merrily in the grate and it felt so homely sitting there and feeling, for the first time since they left Beorn's house, actually full. Two armchairs were drawn up near the fire, comfortably deep. Many maps were piled up on an oak desk, some rolled and some unrolled and the one pinned open. The desk was beautifully carved as was all the elegant and sparse furniture. A wide carved oak chair stood near the desk but pushed to one side suggesting that the occupant preferred to stand poring over his maps, and to one side was another narrower desk with a row of glass ink bottles, all different colours and anachronistically, an old jam jar stuffed with pens, some broken and some new. There were a lot of papers on the desk and another chair pushed out as if the person had suddenly stood up, impatient with something he had read.

Stretching his legs out towards the fire, Bilbo settled on the footstool, feeling the Ring hum comfortably on his finger. He leaned his head back against the arm of the deep and comfortable chair and in no time at all, was asleep.

So he did not notice the door open.

Nor did he hear the slightly heavier tread or the deep sigh of the newcomer, and he did not awaken when the maps were shifted and a goblet filled with wine.

In fact, Bilbo slept quite soundly until his dreams shifted around the sound of maps being moved around and the clink of glass, the pour of wine. By the time he had blinked awake it was too late to move and someone stood with his back to Bilbo, between him and fire and looking down into the flames.

The elf wore a rich crimson tunic embroidered with oak and ash leaves in fine gold thread. His boots were soft suede and beautifully tooled. His hair was heavy and deep gold. He leaned one hand against the mantle of the hearth and firelight glinted on the deep ruby ring on his finger.

It was the elf that Anglach had distracted earlier, when Legolas had disappeared into his own chambers with Miriel and Lossar.

Thranduil.

The King drank steadily and then put down the glass goblet and sighed.

'I cannot do it.' The words a whisper, a murmur from the heart and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut for if he were discovered, he thought, his fate would be far worse than the dwarves.

He wondered what the Elvenking himself could not do.

And then, images flickered into his head…a high chamber of stone, its walls washed with a reddish-gold glow….

 _….The huge red-gold Dragon lay coiled upon a high bed of gold and gems. His tail stretched long, far down into the shadowed halls and out of sight. It twitched slightly somewhere in the shadows and there was the sound of shifting coins, metal, treasure beyond dreams. Smaug breathed. Thin wisps of smoke blew out of his nostrils for his fires were low and sleepy. But he knew the smell of Elf, the touch of Elf...the taste of Elf flesh. He had come from the North, but no mere Worm of the Northern wastes, this. No, this was Smaug Uruloki, a fire -drake._

 _And Smaug cracked open an eye of molten fire, gold and flame, hunger. '_ _Well...Thranduil Oropherion. It's about time.'_

Bilbo stared, his eyes were caught on the flickering red-gold of the fire and the shifting coals that glowed like hot metal, like armoured scales.

He caught movement and slowly, stunned into a stupor, he watched the elf staring into the flames even as he did, and then he was thrown back into memories that were not his:

 _One great claw slowly stretched, flexed and stayed spread, the great talons gleamed like scimitars amongst the shifting piles of gold coins. A necklace was caught between Smaug's talons, a lovely delicate string of mithril and emeralds. He barely noticed it for the power and elegance of the Dragon's claw._

 _'And now, my lord, you rule Erebor.'_

 _'Indeed. And I have gold enough to furnish you with the army you need...'_ _Smaug's eye flashed over him. 'Or I could blaze over your Wood...'_

In his mind, Bilbo saw the flames, leaping impossibly high over the trees, engulfing the forest in flame. Deer running hard, for their lives and the slower creatures incinerated, burned. The backdrop of flames devouring their talans, their houses and cottages and his folk fleeing with nothing, trailing as refugees from the Dragon's wrath…He could not risk this. Not with the Necromancer in the South on one side and the Dragon on the East side. He dared not risk it.

 _But for how long can you withstand the dark on your own? How long before the Dragon tires of your Peace?_

Suddenly the King turned and looked around the room as if he had been startled. His eyes were slate-green and heavy with grief and the burden of power. He lingered upon Bilbo and Bilbo froze, but there was no flicker of recognition in the elf's eyes, no sense that he had seen Bilbo. Just alertness. Like a warrior poised for battle.

But Bilbo knew the Ring had scuttled back, crouched down and knew it had been too strong; it needed to be subtle. Its _awareness_ suddenly frightened him; he was a mere bystander.

 _...but those cowardly Noldor,_ the Ring's insidious whisper wound about the king, _they hide in their Valley, in their Golden Wood, protected by their Rings of Power. And you have none._

'I need no ring.' Thranduil spoke as if the thought was occurring to him of his own volition. His voice was rich and deep, and he spoke as if to himself. He stared into space. 'I have my sons. My people.'

The Elvenking drank steadily and then put down the glass goblet and sighed.

'I cannot do it.' The words were a whisper, a murmur from the heart and Bilbo squeezed his eyes closed, for if he were discovered, he thought, his fate would be worse than the dwarves.

He wondered what the Elvenking himself could not do.

The King had moved away and stood now over the maps, his eyes fixed on the Mountain.

 _How soon before the Dragon tires of your Peace?_

The sneaky voice suggested once again and Bilbo shuddered. He wanted to take off the Ring then, felt it like clammy hands upon him, like Smeagol. But if he did, he would be discovered.

And then he felt again how Thranduil' thoughts lingered on the Mountain:

 _He felt the scorch of Smaug's gaze settle briefly upon the arrow and then away. 'I find myself curious about your kingdom. So you will send me tribute every ten years. Not one of your hoary old warriors. A young one. They are more tender. You have three sons.' Smaug laughed, a deep rumble that reverberated through the air, through Thranduil's own bones and chest. 'You will send someone to me as mark of faith. Every ten years.'_

 _'I will come myself,' he said quickly. Too quickly, he thought and indeed, the Dragon's gaze raked over him. Thranduil's mind leapt suddenly back to the Wood. To send his children, any children into this lair, this dead world to the Dragon, was too much._

 _Smaug shifted and the sound of thousands, millions of gold coins pouring, sliding, clinking, but to Thranduil they sounded like chains. The Dragon's huge, reptilian head flashed close and away, lifted above him and Thranduil thought he would be blasted._

 _'Ten years,'_ _Smaug_ _'s voice followed him, echoed down the empty halls, reached up into the silent tiers and drifted through the dark arches, 'And you will send me your son.'_

Bilbo almost staggered back then; so that was it! Thranduil had struck a bargain with Smaug. He was to send his sons to the Dragon to renew the bargain every ten years. He wondered how long ago this had been done and who the King would send next. Did Smaug eat them?

There was a soft tap on the door.

Thranduil swung his head around and stared for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and said, 'Come.'

When the door opened, Bilbo saw that Thalos was standing there, his tall frame obscured the light from the hall. His easy smile had gone from his handsome face and he looked anxious, miserable.

Bilbo gasped for he knew now why the King had summoned Thalos. His son. He could see the intent as clearly as if it were written upon paper. He was going to send him to Smaug. Bilbo clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the cry that almost burst from him.

'My lord,' Thalos stopped a little distance from his father and bowed his head. 'I am sorry for my error. The dwarves…'

Thranduil tutted and took two strides to where Thalos stood and threw an arm around him. '..should never have been where they were. I know.' He steered Thalos towards the fire and Bilbo had to move quickly or he would have been trodden upon. He crouched silently in the corner. Thranduil pushed Thalos down into one of the chairs and then poured wine into a goblet, pressed it into his hand. 'You have paid for that. And Galadhon.'

Thalos looked down and sipped at the wine. Bilbo felt a scream almost working its way up from his belly; you cannot send Thalos to the dragon! he wanted to cry.

He found a pair of long green eyes staring at him.

And suddenly Thalos was on his feet and striding towards Bilbo.

Bilbo shut his eyes and thought of nothing, the wall behind him. The chairs.

'What is it?'

'I thought…I felt…' Thalos faltered. He shook his head but remained standing only a hands breadth from Bilbo. His green eyes were sharp and focused on the space that Bilbo occupied and he leaned forwards slightly as if listening. Both elves were frozen now, still as statues.

Bilbo held his breath- it was like when Legolas had sensed him but Bilbo did not want to go back to That Place and so he closed his eyes and thought of the green light that washed through the caverns, like they were under water or in a woodland….

At last he heard Thalos give a small sigh and then he said, 'It is nothing. It is gone.' He let his shoulders drop and turned back to his father. 'Just a sense of…something. Like you get in the South sometimes,' he finished uncertainly

Thranduil regarded his middle son thoughtfully. He sank into the chair opposite Thalos and steepled his elegant fingers which glittered with rings, a ruby glowed deeply.

He did not look, but Bilbo knew he was listening, sensing and the hobbit remained absolutely still, silent; he did not want to be plunged into that dreadful place outside the world where the Ring had taken him before. But he did not want to be discovered either, in the King's private rooms - _like an assassin or spy of the Necromancer,_ that insistent voice whispered. _Sneaking around, listening, watching._

Bilbo pressed his hands over the Ring as if he could silence its insidious whisper. He felt pins and needles in his fingers and toes but dared not moved in case the elves became aware of him once more and that, even more than wanting to warn Thalos, made him sit silent and still.

Thalos reached for a poker and prodded at the fire. With a hiss and sputter, sparks flew up and small flames burst from the glowing wood. He shook his head slightly as if he were trying to rid himself of some thought, and then he sat back again, watching his father.

'It is ten years since the Danedh-Amlung,' Thranduil said slowly. _Danedh-Amlung_ , Bilbo thought in horror; Dragon's Ransom. He put his hands over his mouth.

Thalos had become very still at the mention of the Danedh-Amlung, he watched the fire which cast a red glow on his face.

Thranduil's eyes lifted to regard his son and a moment of terrible fear seemed flicker over him. His hand flexed as if he wanted to reach out, to pull Thalos to him as if he could protect him as he had a child. Bilbo could not blame him.

'I have a request of you.' Thranduil's voice was heavy. Thalos turned his face towards his father and waited.

Thranduil took a breath and then he spoke: 'We are sworn to secrecy,' said the King sombrely. 'And if I speak more, you are sworn likewise. This is a sacrifice we make for the Wood, for our folk.'

Bilbo stared, almost holding his breath. _Sacrifice? No!_ He was almost on his feet when there was a soft implosion and he _saw..._

 _Gandalf._

 _'I have something that I need you to keep for me...In whatever way you think best.' The Wizard drew a pouch from somewhere inside his robes and handed it to Thranduil. 'Do not ask me how I came by it. That is another story and which I may tell you sometime. But for now at least, it is in your care. You will know what it is.'_

 _Bilbo saw the King's face lit up as he opened the pouch; ten thousand sparks of bright radiance shot with glints of the rainbows. He almost gasped aloud._

'You know why we are called Danedh-Amlung?'

Thranduil's voice brought Bilbo back to himself with a jolt. He was here. In Mirkwood. In the King's study while he was about to ask his son to be the sacrifice to the dragon!

Unaware, Thalos was smiling slightly. 'They say that you went into Smaug's lair and took something. They say you ransomed it back in exchange for an oath that he would not come to the Wood. And I think part of that is true.'

Thranduil inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

'I have heard you say often enough, usually to Legolas!' Thalos laughed softly, 'that only a fool would disturb a dragon's hoard and so I have guessed that you had something with which to bargain.' Thalos' green eyes were shrewd and he was fixed upon his father's face, watching it for tell tale signs. The slightest smile curled Thranduil's mouth and Thalos put his head on one side slightly and smiled back. 'It had to be more than a simple treaty or the peace that you could offer. Smaug cares a little, I think, that we might rise against him; a little. But not much. So you must have had something he wanted very much...And there is only one thing I think could be enough, although all had assumed it had remained when the dwarves fled. But I for one, having seen how Thrain thought of that jewel, never doubted he had taken it with him when they fled. I think he would have risked his own life and that of all his people for that one jewel; the Arkenstone.'

Thranduil did not so much as blink; his gaze was steady, his eyes heavy-lidded and his fingers still steepled. He had barely moved since his son had started speaking.

There was a long pause and then Thalos said, 'What I do not know is how you came by it.'

It was only then that Thranduil moved. He shrugged. 'It was given me by one who had the right.'

They both smiled then at some private jest that Bilbo did not understand and he could not see how the King could smile at such a dreadful time.

At that moment, Thranduil's smooth mask broke and he leaned forwards and clasped Thalos' hand with immense tenderness, and Bilbo almost turned away for he knew he was intruding on an utterly private moment between father and son, and that Thranduil was sacrificing his own son for his people.

'Do not doubt yourself, my heart. You are my captain in the Bite. You hold it against the shadow, second only to Laersul but equal in my love. None doubt your fame, your courage. Your worthiness.'

He relinquished Thalos' hand and leaned back in his chair.

'And now I ask you, my second captain of the Woodland Realm, who has acquitted himself with great honour and won renown for his valorous deeds and his courage, if you would undertake yet another deed for the Wood, one that will take you into great danger. Is perilious.'

'One that _you_ have already faced without knowing its outcome?' Thalos gave a wry smile. 'And both my brothers.'

Bilbo stared; both Thalos' brothers? He knew now that Legolas was one of his brothers, and he was very much alive. So how could he have been to the dragon? Unless Smaug did not eat them?

'Ah, do not reproach me,' Thranduil was saying, his face stricken. 'You are not a father yet and you have not seen the dragon. You have not heard him...Smaug demanded that I send a warrior every ten years to renew the pledge. Laersul was the first. And Legolas last.' Thranduil looked at his middle son and his slate-green eyes were dark with fear. 'He has asked for you. As I knew he always would.'

Thalos started and looked up. 'Asked for me?'

Bilbo almost sagged with relief. Renew the pledge! He was not going to be eaten...unless of course Smaug felt hungry. Suddenly the enormity of it hit Bilbo anew; it was one thing renewing a pledge to another hobbit town, or the Steward of Gondor in the far South. It was an entirely different thing, Bilbo realised, to be saying it to a dragon- which might just change its mind and eat you anyway.

Thranduil, it seemed, shared Bilbo's concern. He was suddenly on his feet, agitated and pacing. ' Legolas, as I said, was the last. You must have guessed this. You could hardly ignore the yárë-carmé the way he flaunts himself,' Thranduil said irritably but it was not harsh but concerned. So that was what the slide of iridescent colour and swirls of abstract patterning on Legolas' skin was; yárë-carmé: ancient art. He had got it after he been to Smaug.

'Legolas brought back a message; Smaug has asked...demanded, that I send you.'

Suddenly, Bilbo felt overwhelmed; here in the Wood all was danger and threat. They fought the Shadow, the Necromancer and Orcs and Wargs and spiders, creatures of the shadow, and died to protect their folk, and there was a dragon on the doorstep, as they would say in Hobbiton. Whilst faraway in the Shire, folk had no idea of the Wild, of the strangeness and fear that beset other peoples of the world. He wanted to reach out and comfort Thranduil for Bilbo had watched Thalos and knew him well; knew he had the absolute faith and loyalty of his men, was brave and daring and quick-witted and wise in the way that his younger brother really was not. If anyone was going to Smaug, Bilbo thought privately, he would far sooner have sent Thalos than Legolas.

'I know you were hurt that _I_ have not asked for you before,' Thranduil acknowledged. He stood now, staring into the fire as if seeing a dragon in the glowing embers and his shoulders were stiff. Thalos looked away. 'It is not because I doubt you. But you are the most vulnerable to Smaug. He is...magnificent. Rare. The last of the Urulóki.'

He turned then and faced his son. 'Thalos. Please understand I was only trying to protect you.' Thranduil held up his hand to stifle the protest. 'Listen to me, child. It is not the same for the others. It is not the same,' he repeated and now he crouched down before Thalos and looked up into his lovely, hurt face that tried to smooth out the pain but could not. 'Listen. You will be beguiled.' He held his son's gaze, willing him to see. 'Now look...No.' He caught Thalos' chin and pulled his face towards his own and leaned in slightly. ' _Look.'_

Both elves fell silent then and Bilbo frowned and realised that Thranduil was conveying something... he focused, and growing used the Ring's power now, he was able to see what Thranduil revealed to Thalos.

 _One great claw slowly stretched, flexed and stayed spread, the great talons gleaming like scimitars amongst the shifting piles of gold coins. A necklace was caught between Smaug's talons, a delicate string of mithril and emeralds. Thranduil though, barely noticed it for the power and elegance of the dragon's claw. It_ _had the colour and richness of pearls, and in that alone he found the power of the Song; rare in its power and resonance and suddenly his heart lurched._

 _'You are the last,' Thranduil said slowly. 'Your magnificence beyond anything I have ever seen.' He found himself wishing he had seen dragons roaring over the plains of Beleriand, fire scorching the earth and their great wings whumping down on the wind. He did not think he could have stood his ground, like the warriors of the First Age; he thought he would have run._

 _Smaug half-closed his eyes. 'We ruled the earth.' His voice was a whisper, low, rich. Full of yearning and loss. 'Morgoth was nothing without us.'_

 _Smaug tilted his head and a slow warmth came from him that seemed to bathe Thranduil in light and he felt an unbearable loneliness, a hunger that could not be sated, and something utterly alien. Cold fire. Deep darkness. A far song. He listened..._

 _Wind under great bat-like wings, soaring high, higher than any cloud, higher than the Moon, above the world, seeking the Great Flame beyond the Circles of the World...and falling back, falling back into darkness..._

'...like a moth fluttering around a candle flame...'

The two elves' voices fell into the quietness of the room and they remained staring at one another while a log in the fire shifted and broke apart; sparks flew up, small flames burst. Bilbo stirred slightly, mesmerised as the elves.

Slowly Bilbo blinked. The loneliness had caught him as well as Thalos. To be the last. With no more of your kind. Ever. No companionship. Nothing. It was a bleak desperation.

Thranduil breathed slowly, with Thalos, gazing at him evenly.

'Now you see,' he said softly. 'You of all my children understand the most. You will see and fall in love with the dragon, with the very _idea_ of it. You, my heart, will stay.' Thranduil drew back and lifted a strand of hair from Thalos' face. 'We almost lost Legolas. He was enraptured by the Song. Anglach and Laersul had to go into the mountain to find him, lost in the tunnels of Erebor and he remembers that not at all. He wandered for days in there. When they brought him out he was lost and dreaming and only when he was healed by the Listener did he come back to us. But I fear for you, Thalos, even more. I fear that you will not wander in the deep places of the Mountain but that you will stay with Smaug. You will want to listen to his song, his voice, to listen to the tales and words, to the ancient heart. You will be lost.' It was not the King who spoke, but a father who told his fears. 'You are the most of all like your mother and I cannot bear to lose you too.'

Thalos listened, his head slightly to one side and his long, dark hair slide over his shoulder and gleamed in the firelight.

He is already ensnared, thought Bilbo, seeing the faraway look in Thalos' green eyes. He is already lost. And the hobbits kindly heart mourned both the valiant captain of the Wood and the King, who was already bereft.

0o0o

Next chapter: Thorin Oakenshield.


	10. Chapter 10 Thorin Oakenshield

Reminder: Thranduil struck a bargain with Smaug- the Arkenstone for peace, and a black arrow that had appeared in Thranduil's dreams and that was entirely useless to Smaug. Every ten years, the peace is renewed by a warrior of the Wood visiting Smaug and promising no elf will lift a hand against the dragon as long as he does not come to the Wood. It is ten years and Smaug asked for Thalos, Thranduil's middle son to be the next Danedh-amlung.

Thanks to reviewers on all the sites. It really is encouraging.

 **Chapter 10: Thorin Oakenshield**

Bilbo sighed. He had sat with the dwarves for a few hours and told them some of what he had found out, which was very little, for the dwarves did not want to hear what the elves spent their days doing and they did not care that a patrol had destroyed a spider colony, but that Anglach had been hurt, nor did they care that Galadhon's wife was expecting a baby and so there was much rejoicing in the stronghold. Dwalin had been quite unpleasant about that and so Bilbo no longer told the dwarves of the little things that happened and he felt even lonelier. And he certainly could not tell them that Thranduil had asked Thalos to be the Danedh-amlung and was even now preparing to leave to renew the promise on behalf of the Wood that no elf would lift a hand against the dragon; Bilbo did not think he could make the dwarves understand as he did now. And they would not care if Thalos ever returned or if he was lost to the dragon forever. As far as the dwarves were concerned, the elves were little better than the spiders.

But Bilbo had changed. He felt it in his bones. Not just the adventure had changed him, although it had. But he had seen the dragon as Thranduil had, the magnificence and the power and the terrible loneliness of being the last one. He knew too that Smaug was cruel and terrible, and the very idea of burgling the dragon was simply the most preposterous thing he had ever heard and he wondered what on earth Gandalf had been thinking. He wondered where Gandalf was now, and Thorin. Especially Thorin.

He had changed in other ways too; the _voice_ that sometimes spoke to him, whispered of great treasures and power, was wiser than he and he had learned to heed it.

So when he heard hurried footsteps approaching and the voice murmured that he should follow, he did. The footsteps belonged to Legolas and he was clearly late for something. As he hurried, he pulled his belt tight as if he had left his chambers not quite dressed, not unusual for Legolas, thought Bilbo in mild disapproval, and he carried a cloak but did not wear it. He was dressed for hunting rather than a patrol or for duties within the palace. He hummed to himself and sang a few snatches of a song which Bilbo recognised as the Lay of Luthien, but Legolas's words were not any that Bilbo had heard in Rivendell and they made the tips of his ears go pink. Quite suddenly, Anglach came around the corner, and Legolas slapped him on the shoulder in delight.

'Are you ready?' Then he saw that Anglach carried a tray and he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue in irritation. 'Haven't you finished with that yet?' he asked. 'We are going to be late and everyone will have gone off before we even get there.'

'If by _gone off,_ you mean people holding hands with each other, and if by everyone, you mean Tauriel,' said Anglach patiently, 'then you need not worry. She is feeding the dwarves first.'

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. Legolas had been mooning over Tauriel like a tweenager, in spite of his dalliances with Miriel, and Lossar. Although neither of them seemed to mind that it was Tauriel that Legolas really pursued.

'Well the way you dawdle means that they will be long gone before we get there.'

'No they won't. We have plenty of time, Legolas. And if you are so worried, then go ahead and I will come later.'

Anglach had a sweetness and naivety that Bilbo found very endearing, although he completely understood why Legolas was irritated and charmed by it in equal measure.

'No. I will wait,' Legolas took the heavy jug of water from the tray so that Anglach had less to carry and fell into step beside him.

'That is because you know I am better looking than you and girls are more likely to speak to you if I am there. Otherwise your ugliness will scare them off. It's a good thing you are the son of the King, otherwise you would be left in the mountains for the goblins to claim as their own.'

This was familiar fare between the two elves; Bilbo almost did not follow them, for the pair of them squabbled over everything, usually which of them was the best looking, or which of them Tauriel liked, or Miriel, or whoever else it was that had caught their eye for the pair of them were silly with lust.

'Well if Tauriel is going to be late too, then we could go by the dwarves' chambers and walk down with her. Or you can,' Legolas said as if inspired. 'I need you to tell her lots of good stuff about me.'

'I have told her everything you told me to say, Legolas, but she is just not interested in you,' Anglach said. Bilbo had lost count of the number of times Anglach had said this to Legolas. 'But if you see Lirewyn, will you remind her about that injury I had from the spiders. I think she likes me.'

'Do you mean that tiny scratch you got when you fell out of the tree?' Legolas asked innocently. 'She is much too clever for you. You need to find yourself a nice orc maid who is stupid enough to believe that you are the hero you think you are.' Bilbo sighed and thought about turning around and so avoiding the usual conversation that frankly, he found a little tedious, but there was a humming in Bilbo's ears and he felt oddly compelled to follow them, though he expected nothing more than ending up outside Tauriel's door.

'I don't understand how Tauriel can not be interested in me at all?' Legolas was saying indignantly and Anglach snorted in laughter.

'Accept that she just doesn't want you. And you should stop pestering her.'

'Pestering her! In what way am I pestering her?' Legolas asked, and Bilbo saw that he was genuinely upset by that.

Bilbo snorted then and then stifled it; Legolas absolutely was pestering her. He took every opportunity to go near her and when he did he made some ridiculously obvious comment or some foolish gesture that had the kitchen elves sniggering and Tauriel rolling her eyes in exasperation. Only Legolas seemed unaware of how silly he was making himself look. But at Bilbo's quiet snort, Legolas suddenly looked round, wide-eyed and alert and his hand flew to his knife.

Anglach rubbed his ear with his finger and shook his head slightly as if there were an annoying mosquito. 'If you weren't so grumpy and bad tempered, Tauriel might actually look at you.' Legolas glanced at Anglach but he took his hand from his knife.

'Am I really being a pest?' he asked in a disappointed tone and Anglach gave him a significant look that was all the answer he needed.

It was only when they took a narrow turning that wound below the kitchens and deeper into the hillside that Bilbo realised they were not going to a part of the stronghold he even knew existed. Legolas and Anglach continued bickering as they wound through the passageway below the main chambers, through narrow arches and past a waterfall that was a thin silver stream from the upper chambers, cascading into a deep, still pool that reflected the stalactites that grew slowly from the roof. It was cooler here. Very quiet. It felt deep beneath the forest and Bilbo felt the slow magic of the Wood. He became aware that the light here was different…the green that tinted everything in the King's stronghold was not because the light filtered through trees, but because it reflected off the limestone and that gave everything a pale subterranean green. It was restful, he found. Even the two elves seemed to feel it for their argument grew muted.

'You can definitely do the latrine bit,' Legolas was saying they turned down a low passgeway that ducked behind a waterfall. There were hundreds of waterfalls in the caverns and Bilbo had found them enchanting at first. Now he was more than a little sick of getting wet all the time.

'It's no worse than mucking out a horse,' Anglach said and Bilbo thought they must be talking about the dwarves for there were no latrines in the dungeons and Galadhon complained bitterly and for a long time when they had to clean the chamber pots. Dwalin took particular pleasure in making the job as unpleasant as he possibly could for their guards and smirked when the pots were removed. But this was not the way to the dwarves' cells, thought Bilbo, puzzled.

'It is nothing like a horse,' Legolas grumbled. 'You would compare my sweet Gwilileth with this miserable Naugrim. I don't know why the King has to have this one so far from the rest.'

Bilbo's ears pricked up; did the elves have another prisoner that he did not yet know of? His heart gave a hopeful squeeze. _Naugrim_ was the word the elves used for dwarf, he knew. There must be another dwarf. It must be Thorin!

'So far from any lavatories,' Anglach lamented. 'But the King will have a very good reason, Legolas. As you well know.' A set of keys dangled from his belt , close enough to Bilbo that he could almost, but not quite, touch them…If this was Thorin, and Anglach had the keys to his cell, it would be no matter at all to release him , Bilbo thought.

'I don't know why you are so grumpy with the dwarves, Legolas,' Anglach said plaintively. They had arrived at a small chamber. A narrow door was at one end and a thin stream ran along the other end, disappearing into a still pool. 'They haven't been any bother and to be honest, I am beginning to think I should speak to the king about how badly they are being treated by you and your guards. I am sure he would not like to think how they are kept locked up day and night with never a breath of air on their faces, or a glimpse of starlight.'

'Oh, you'll go to the King and say that, will you?' Legolas sounded quite sarcastic and Bilbo was surprised for he rarely heard Legolas unkind. Legolas snatched the key from Anglach and jammed it into the lock. 'And I suppose you will make sure you blame me for that, make sure that you look better in my father's eyes than me…'

Anglach turned his face to Legolas astonished, aghast. 'Legolas! I never… How could you think that?'

Legolas had already closed his mouth as if he could trap the words. But it was too late. He shook his head. 'Forgive me, Anglach. Those words… they just popped out. I didn't even know I was thinking that.' He rubbed his head. 'I don't know what is happening to me. I have a ringing in my ears. It's been like it all day and made me grumpy…' He paused and gave his head a little shake as if he might get rid of the noise. And then he looked a little ashamed. 'And you are probably right. I _am_ pestering Tauriel. She doesn't like me whatever I do. In fact I think she is avoiding me and asking for guard duty with the dwarves rather than go anywhere I might be.' He looked so miserable that Bilbo almost reached out and patted his arm. ' I was unforgivably rude to her earlier today and accused her of desiring one of the dwarves.'

Anglach looked rueful. 'I think it's partly because you are already sleeping with Lossar and Miriel at the same time as trying to woo Tauriel. And she just isn't like that. I suppose you were trying to get both Tauriel and Miriel into bed with you at the same time.' He tutted. 'Why you can't be like everyone else and have one sweetheart I don't know.' Then he grinned. 'Miriel only feels sorry for you because you are as ugly as an Orc.'

Suddenly they were back to their usual caustic silliness that amused no one but themselves, but their friendship was back where it should be and Legolas grinned back and turned the key.

'She feels sorry for me because I have to trail around with you and your warg-breath.'

"It's your warg breath, Legolas,' Anglach said patiently, hefting the tray onto one arm and pushing open the heavy door . 'It's a good thing Lossar has no sense of smell so he finds joy in your company. But Tauriel? If you have offended her, then I pity you!'

Bilbo privately agreed; he had got to know Tauriel a little as well and she was a terror when angered. Then he stopped in astonishment; Anglach opened the door and spoke to whoever was inside, his voice tender and kind.

But the voice that replied was anything but.

Thorin!

Bilbo almost fell over in excitement and haste. Thorin. He had found Thorin.

0o0o0o0o

Thorin paced furiously, punching his fist against the wooden door, the iron bars, the damned stone of the cell that held him. Held him! Fast. Like a wolf in a trap. He still smarted from the audience with the Elvenking, furious to see Orcrist in that gangling _fasl_ bastard's hand like he owned it, like he heard its song. How could it be that Thorin had lost it so soon after finding it! He remembered when he had unleashed the sword from its silent scabbard, how it rang with power, how it thrummed with energy, flooded him with its desire. Even now he felt himself stiffen in response to its glorious ring.

There were voices and a quiet scuffle of feet nearby and Thorin froze, turned with fists clenched and ready. Forcing his anger down, he settled himself back onto the wide wooden bench that seemed more workbench than seat. He exuded calm even if he felt like throwing himself against the bars, for he would not give the elves the pleasure in seeing him so distressed. He let his dark eyes fix upon the dim green light that showed through the bars of the cell.

'Good evening, your lordliness,' came an irritatingly bright voice in thickly accented and atrociously poor Westron. That cursed elf, Anglach, was back, thought Thorin. He seemed to think Thorin was some kind of pet. Thorin knew Anglach's name because the damnable elf had made a point of introducing himself by pointing to himself obviously and saying loudly and slowly, 'Ang- lach.' Like he was slow-witted. Then he had pointed to Thorin in clear invitation. Which of course Thorin had completely ignored and turned his back upon the elf in disdain.

Thorin had deliberately refused to use Anglach's name and only spoke in Khuzdul or Westron, knowing that Anglach's imperfect knowledge of Westron would mean he did not completely follow Thorin's meaning. More importantly, Thorin had not let on that in fact that he understood the elves' own language perfectly well, for trade in the Blue Mountains was not only with Men. These Wood elves' accents were of course thick and uncouth and nothing like the Seafarers of Mithlond, or the Noldor of the Northern settlements that still remained. Still, Thorin could follow what they said though he was careful not to show it for it might be useful later, he thought.

So when Thorin replied indignantly it was in Westron. 'How can it be a good evening when I am kept unlawfully, a prisoner, for no crime?'

Anglach tutted in consternation for he was, whatever Thorin thought about his wits or lack thereof, a kindly soul. But as the thick wooden door swung open, a second voice answered in perfectly understandable Westron. 'When you tell the King why you invaded our celebrations, armed and aggressive, he will release you.' It was the other elf with long blond hair and cool green eyes. Thorin did not like this second elf; he was cold and aloof. And he regarded Thorin was as much suspicion and dislike as Thorin regarded him.

'Get back, dwarf, or you will not eat or drink,' this second elf said coldly in Westron.

Anglach turned to the second elf and said in the elves' own language, 'Honestly Legolas. You should not speak so. That is not very polite and the King would not be pleased!' Anglach turned back to Thorin and smiled kindly, while Thorin struggled to remember where he had heard the name Legolas before.

'Here,' said Anglach. His Westron was very bad but Thorin had got used to the grammatical inaccuracies and thick accent. 'Is here pie, po-tat-toes, veg-it-tables. Pudding is in too. Úrloch tarts and custardy of vanilla. Cheeses and fruits.' Anglach carefully lay the tray down on the wide bench upon which Thorin sat. Stepping back, he watched Thorin attentively and with a concern that Thorin found irritating and disconcerting at the same time.

And then Thorin remembered; Legolas. Yes, the king had three sons he recalled; the oldest two, the lord Laersul and the lord Thalos had been frequent enough visitors to both Dale and even Erebor on occasion. Thorin had met them briefly on one such visit and in spite of himself, could not help being impressed by both. But there had been something concerning the youngest son… Thorin racked his brains but could not remember what it was; something to do with the Master of Esgaroth. His daughters? His wife? The youngest was called Legolas. This must be Thranduil's youngest pup, Thorin thought. Very deliberately, he turned his back on the elves.

Thranduil's pup said something in a low voice that Thorin did not hear but he could imagine the sneer upon the elf's face as he spoke. But Legolas did not enter the cell. It was Anglach who cleared up; Thorin's humiliation over having to use a chamber pot had diminished, and he no longer cringed when the elf threw a cover over it and lifted it to take away. Instead he hoped that the elf would trip and throw it over Thranduil's youngest. The thought made him smile slowly, intensely.

At last the door clanged shut and Thorin turned his head to look at the tray. He had rarely eaten as well as he was doing in Anglach's custody; his minder did make a point of feeding him delicious dishes and dainties, even if Thorin hated to admit it. And the thought of how well he was being fed brought to mind his lost companions and he bowed his head.

He had of no way of knowing if his kin, his friends lived or died.

The elves, however kind Anglach might be, were stopping him from his quest and that he could never forgive. Slowly, the implacable hatred of his heart began to burn, and the desire for gold lit in him, scorched his veins and bones. The elves' voices trailed off down the passageway and silence settled in the caverns now. There was only the natural light, he had grown used to the greenish tinge of limestone and amused himself by cataloguing the minerals and gemstones that might lie beneath the stone. And he listened to the Song of the stone, the rock that had been delved first by water, then by elves and dwarvish hands had shaped and unlocked the structure and beauty within the stone. It was restful.

There was a scrape, as if someone had dragged an empty bucket and upended it outside his dungeon door. A scrambling sound as if someone very small had clambered upon the bucket and was straining to see through the bars. Fingers grasped the edge of the tiny panel in the door, curled around the bars and a mop of curly hair bobbed outside, just below his line of sight.

Thorin raised his head and his deep eyes gleamed. 'Have you returned to taunt me, devil?' he cried, his deep voice resonated with power so that the elves would feel his wrath, and the stone would sing back.

'No!'

That was a squeak. A definate, very un-elvish squeak.

Thorin was at the door in two strides, incredulous. 'Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins! Is that really you or are these elves deceiving me yet more?'

'Yes, it's me,' Bilbo said in a more normal voice. He smiled up hopefully at Thorin's face. Thorin could not believe it; Bilbo Baggins!

'Bilbo Baggins, at your service,' Bilbo repeated for Thorin was struck as if by lightning and could only gaze at the hobbit with incredulity and admiration. How had the hobbit managed to penetrate the stronghold? He glanced behind the hobbit to see if more of his kin were there, if they had all somehow found a way in and free their leader. But there was only Bilbo.

'Where are the others?' Thorin asked in a low, anxious voice, hoping the worst had not happened.

'They are being kept here too. In another chamber. We didn't know you were here!' Bilbo laughed, and his brown eyes were filled with delight at finding Thorin. Thorin smiled back, his heart full. 'Just wait till they know you are here!' Bilbo laughed again as if he could not quite believe it. Thorin clasped the hobbit's fingers where they clutched the bars of his cell.

'How did you manage to escape?' Thorin asked in bewilderment.

As Bilbo told him how the company had been beset by spiders and it seemed, in spite of Bilbo's modest replies, that the hobbit had been instrumental in freeing the dwarves from the spiders, Thorin's regard for Bilbo increased. He could not quite believe that the elves were so careless that they had not noticed Bilbo sneak in through the doors, or even see him around the palace, but hobbits, as Thorin was discovering, were quite unexpected. Soft-footed, stealthy, discrete and resilient. If anyone was going to free the dwarves, it was Bilbo.

'You are remarkable, master Baggins!' Thorin cried, almost laughing again. Now there was hope. Now he had company too, instead of this endless silence. His dark eyes lingered on Bilbo's face in delight. But then he paused for a moment and looked more deeply at Bilbo. Something had changed about the hobbit…He tilted his head slightly and for a moment, a heartbeat…two.. three…Thorin held Bilbo's gaze, cradled it almost like some precious thing…and then he blinked slowly. 'Master Baggins. There is something about you that is different, changed. In your eyes…'

There was gold-light in the hobbit's eyes; Thorin recognised the light of one who has made his first discovery of gold, and unleashed its power over the dwarvish heart, the love of metal and gemstones, the iron in the blood that called to the Mountain. His own voice dropped then in recognition of the kin-spirit, deeper, the vibration rumbled like his own heartbeat. 'You have discovered something.'

He inclined his head slightly, holding Bilbo's gaze and searching his face; where had he found gold? Was it Thranduil's treasure? After all, this was his stronghold where he was known to keep his treasure.

Bilbo gazed at Thorin as if rapt, and then he moved slightly but Thorin could not see what he did through the wooden door. Thorin did not take his eyes from Bilbo's face though he was acutely aware of Bilbo's movement, like his hand going to his pocket. What did he have in his pocket? Slowly, Thorin stepped closer, his eyes dark.

 _King of the Mountain. Thorin Oakenshield, the greatest dwarf since Durin, greater even than Durin…and your heart will be turned to gold…gold…Thorin, greater than any king ever, you rule from the Mountain and all dwarves bow to you…all elves kneel…Men will pay tribute, Thranduil be your thrall. All the Mountains will ring with your name!_

Thorin stared; this voice, this quiet voice that spoke his thoughts, his dreams…was this Bilbo somehow? He reached out and touched the hobbit's fingers, still clenched around the bars and Bilbo stared, mesmerised.

 _The greatest king the dwarves have ever known. Wise and just and benevolent. How your people will thrive!_

'Bilbo?' Thorin's heart pounded in his chest; Bilbo had something. Something that would release them. Something of power. He had stolen something of Thranduil's! 'Burglar indeed!' Thorin cried in elation, and clasped Bilbo's hand through the bars. ' What is it that you have? What have you stolen from that _fasl?_ You know they have taken Orcrist, the sword that came to me. My sword. And he, that _igshalem_ holds it as if he can hear it!'

Suddenly Bilbo staggered back, blinking hard and shaking his head slightly. It was like some cord had been cut between them and where they had been joined and linked by some thread of power, they were suddenly cast loose and drifting.

'No. No, not me. I've not go anything.' Bilbo shook his head in denial but Thorin stepped even closer, pressing himself now against the wooden door. He narrowed his eyes. Why was the hobbit lying? He should not feel the need to hide anything from Thorin!

'Bilbo?' he said, with concern for the hobbit. 'You do not need to fear me.' For he trusted Bilbo as he only trusted his kin; surely Bilbo trusted him too?

Thorin leaned against the heavy wood of the door, wishing he could melt it, burst it open and seize Bilbo, make him understand. But he could not. This elvish prison closed around him and thwarted him!

'Bilbo? You saved me. You put yourself between Azog and me. You are are more to me than...' He cast around for the right weight, the right measure of his regard. 'You are more to me than gold.' In that moment, he knew the truth. Bilbo Baggins, unprepossessing little man that he was, was worth more to Thorin than gold. He owed Bilbo his life. 'Surely you do not fear me?"

Bilbo looked away for a moment as if considering. His hand closed over something, dropped it back in his pocket.

Then he looked up and meeting Thorin's gaze now his face and eyes were clear and honest and unafraid. 'I am not afraid. Not any longer. Now that I have found you.'

0o0o0o

tbc

Next: Thalos departs for the Mountain and so do the dwarves.


	11. Chapter 11: Bilbo's Plan

I am sorry- I thought I had posted this chapter and then realised I hadn't when I went to post the next chapter!

Unbeta'd from now on as Anar is going to focus on the sequel to Sons of Thunder, which is currently underway. Got two chapters but want to get this done first. Thanks as always to all those who take the time to review- it is the writer's only reward so if you enjoyed this and want the next chapter damn quick, PLEASE review!

 **Chapter 11: A Plan.**

When Bilbo told the dwarves that he had found Thorin they were elated.

'All we need now is to get out of here!' Fili had exclaimed and Kili had immediately started making plans, drawing in the dust with his finger. But Dwalin and Balin were far more circumspect and looked at Bilbo thoughtfully.

'There is no easy way,' Balin said finally. 'That elf captain, Galadhon, will never cease his vigilance. He has some deep grudge against us that makes him very careful about locking doors and checking we have no way of escape.'

Bilbo agreed. 'Galadhon was the captain who was in charge the night you were captured. He has been blamed for not stopping us so I think he will never let up his vigilance.' He sighed and tutted at their situation.

Dwalin looked at Bilbo again with shrewd, appraising eyes. 'Can you not steal it from under his nose? After all, you have a magic ring that makes you invisible. And you are a burglar.' He cocked his head slightly to regard Bilbo but the reference to burglary made Bilbo very uncomfortable. He was already stealing from the Elvenking's table and it made him think too of Smeagol's shrieking accusation as he fled the tunnels of the Misty Mountains.

 _Thief, thief, thief, Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it forever!_

The loss of the one thing that mattered to him would destroy Gollum, Bilbo thought. And he remembered thinking how alone Gollum was; miserable, alone, lost. The sudden understanding , pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart once again, as it had in the darkness of the mountains. A glimpse of the endless days, unmarked without light or hope, hard stone, cold fish and endless whispering. _Sneaking_ ….Like he was now.

It was not the first time he had thought it, grown tired of skulking around stealing. But what choice did he have? Of course the Ring also had other powers, he thought to himself, or the thought occurred to him.

Does it? He shook himself a little. He didn't know that.

Yes, of course he had been able to see into some of the elves' thoughts, although that had attracted their attention too.

 _But you will become better at it._

He supposed he would.

 _There will be other powers._

Bilbo stopped to consider:the Ring certainly allowed him to see what others were thinking. Perhaps it could influence how others behaved, but he was loathe to use it on any elf for they seemed to sense the Ring as soon as it awoke and focused on them, for that was how he had begun to think of it, as awakening like a hawk and sending it to hunt…Except it seemed more than that, and Bilbo found that at times he was a little scared. But he could not stop stroking his finger over the precious gold sometimes and he swore it almost hummed with pleasure, like a sleepy cat purring. And then he was calmed and reassured. It was a magic ring. That was all. It made him invisible, helped him to hide, helped him to understand other people. It helped him. That was all.

When the dwarves were brought their supper and Bilbo, as usual, had assured them that he would find his own and they did not have to share their own with him, Bilbo left.

In the huge and warm kitchen, there was a stool that had been forgotten; someone had once placed it behind an empty flour barrel and it was quite hidden. Everyone had forgotten it was there it seemed and Bilbo often went there when he felt lonely or was trying to find things out. He preferred the kitchens and stores to the upper palace though he liked best trailing behind one of the younger elves because he enjoyed their company and antics and felt less oppressed by his loneliness when he was with them. He was much more careful though and did not pry into their thoughts now for he had been scared by how quickly the sons of the King had known he was there.

He found some cheese and a hunk of bread left out on the table and quietly stolen it and was nibbling away as he listened and thought. Like a mouse he thought.

 _Like a mouse,_ agreed the Ring, _not a thief. No. Not sneaking_.

Bilbo was concerned by now that many of those elves he had come to think of as his friends were falling out over silly and trivial matters.

It was fast approaching the Feast of Starlight, when the elves marked that the earth turned towards sleep. Usually preparing for a feast was a merry affair and a chance for the cooks to show off their skill. Bilbo had expected the cook, Úroch to be busily ordering his staff about, directing the baking of cakes and bread and tarts and pies, and the merry kitchen-elves would be excited and keen, but this evening there was a subdued and anxious atmosphere. Bilbo realised this had been growing for some time and in fact, elves from all over the stronghold had seemed to become more anxious and more irritable the longer he was there. He could not account for it, nor could anybody else for it had not gone unnoticed by the elves either. The kitchen maids murmured to each other that a shadow had crept through the Wood. They whispered because they did not want either Úrloch or Galion to hear them gossiping and they stopped as soon as either of those entered but their fingers cradled talismans and amulets of protection. It was not only in the kitchens, that Bilbo heard whispers that the King did not do enough, that the Dark was descending upon the Wood and in truth it was now Mirkwood. If only they had the protection enjoyed by the other elven realms…

Bilbo did not know what that meant but he stroked his Ring and it hummed pleasurably and coiled about his finger snugly…He shook himself. No, not coiled surely? But now and again he did think it seemed to move, to hug him tighter...to coil.

The dissonance was affecting those Bilbo thought of as his own elves too; he had discovered quite by chance that Miriel and Tauriel had argued over Legolas, and Miriel had subsequently left the stronghold and gone to live with her parents in their cottage in the Wood. Tauriel was irritated and upset in equal measure and the short, hairy forester, Filion, had tried to comfort her in the way that Legolas would have liked to except that Legolas was hunting with the King in preparation for the feast. But one thing that _had_ happened as a result of Anglach's heated words to Legolas, was that Legolas had listened to what Anglach had said about him pestering Tauriel and stopped. It was a pity, thought Bilbo observing these goings on with a wise and knowing eye, that he had not stopped until Miriel had already left the stronghold and indeed, Legolas was not even aware that she had gone until Theliel told him.

The kitchen maids were gossiping that Anglach would usually have joined the hunt but he had been prevented by Galadhon, who had still not forgiven him for the dwarves. In fact, Galadhon had insisted to Thalos that Anglach should have further punishment, not only guarding Thorin, who was considered the most difficult and dangerous of the dwarves, but that Anglach should also miss the hunt AND the feast. Thalos had remonstrated with his friend that he was being particularly unfair but Galadhon was unusually grumpy and insistent, and Thalos and he argued about it rather bitterly. As a result, Galadhon was even more taciturn with the dwarves and Thalos stomped about in a great temper which was almost unheard of apparently. The maids looked at each other with wide, excited eyes as if the idea of a furious Thalos was the most exciting and alluring thing they could imagine! (for Galadhon, although very good-looking, was married and expecting a new baby) And no doubt they hoped to be the one to help calm Thalos down.

In the rest of the stronghold, the elves were almost tiptoeing around for the King was in a very bad mood apparently. Bilbo had managed to avoid Thranduil completely after he had overheard that very private and secret conversation between Thranduil and his middle son, Thalos. Bilbo had witnessed the King's own private fear and did not want to intrude again. And both Thranduil and Thalos had seemed particularly aware of the Ring and Bilbo could not take any more chances.

Only Kili seemed pleased for Tauriel had not gone hunting, it seemed she too was out of favour with Galadhon, though Bilbo could not see why. When Anglach was preparing Thorin's supper, Tauriel had been preparing the rest of the dwarves. But Kili spent the time flirting with her and when she wasn't there, he sat and thought up clever things to say to her. He was a lot like Legolas in that way, Bilbo thought fondly.

As it grew late in the evening, Bilbo watched and listened and at some point Galion arrived for the same thing it appeared. He sat on a chair in the middle of the table, with his elbows on the table and got in the way of everyone. The kitchen maids had to pick their way around him and the cooks had to keep moving him when they needed the table or the worktop or bench that he was occupying. Bilbo wondered what Galion actually did most of the time as apart from keeping the keys to the King's cellars, he mainly got in the way, told the King what he thought and irritated the Cook. Gradually the kitchen elves finished their chores and eventually there was only Úrloch and Galion left in the kitchen.

Galion and Úrloch, had a complex relationship. Galion was the King's butler and most trusted servant, it seemed to Bilbo, and Úrloch was the chief cook. Galion constantly tried to order Úrloch about and Úrloch had an attitude of respectful disobedience towards Galion, who was, in almost all things, his senior. But it was clear than Thranduil had forbidden Galion to have anything to do with cooking, and this gave Úrloch an unprecedented authority in his own domain.

It was here that Bilbo found out one reason for the anxious atmosphere. The King's oldest son, Laersul, should have returned in time for feast, but he had sent urgent messages to say he would be delayed; it seemed there were momentous events in the South but no one seemed to know what these were and Bilbo wondered if Gandalf were somehow involved.

'Whatever it is that the Sit-On-Your-Arse Council think they are doing in our Wood,' Galion was saying, 'It will all be part of that Deceiver's plan, you mark my words.' Bilbo knew that Galion was referring to the Necromancer of course, who dwelt in the dreadful and haunted tower of Dol Guldur that had once been the palace of the King's father but the elves had been driven North. The main occupation of the King's warriors was to keep the Necromancer at bay and to fight his evil forces. Bilbo had no idea who or what the Sit-On-Your-Arse Council were though he had often heard him talk of them in highly offensive terms that were usually much more colourful that certainly did not know that Galion referred to the White Council, of which Gandalf was a member.

Úroch cast Galion a disapproving glance as he beat eggs into a huge bowl. He looked like he wished it was Galion he was beating.

'If they think to drive him out of Dol Guldur, then they are fools,' Galion continued. 'I would not be in the least bit surprised to find that he has marshalled forces beyond their calculation and that he sees it as an opportunity to defeat them, and us, once and for all.' Galion looked down at the table glumly. 'Whatever they do, he'll be thumbing his nose at them, you mark my words, and it will be our boys somehow who will pay the price.' He looked up at Úroch, who seemed to agree with this and grunted softly. 'If not now, sometime in the future. And if it was that easy, why didn't they do it before? And why have they suddenly decided to get involved after all these years of us telling them it was more than just some sorcerer, some mere Man who knows a bit of wizardry? Why has it taken them so long and why have we paid so much in blood?' Galion shoved the chair out and stood up. Glaring he stomped off to the cellar leaving Úrloch folding in flour for a cake, and returned moments later with a glass flagon of wine. He held it up in the light to admire the richness of colour and the heavy sediment that had accrued at the base of the glass.

'We need to taste the wine for the feast,' he announced and Úroch raised a fine eyebrow.

'That is Rhovanion?' he observed. 'You do not plan to serve this at the King's table?'

'Of course not! That will be the Dorwinion. I have some casks laid down from Brand's time. We will have to try that tomorrow of course.'

'Of course.'

Bilbo quickly realised that this was a tradition between Galion and Úroch. Soon there were four empty flagons on the table beside them and Galion had carefully selected a new flagon, dust thick upon it, and looked at it with great appreciation before opening it and pouring a generous goblet for his friend, the cook. It must be a heady brew, though Bilbo, for the Wood-elves could drink a very great deal before they were even slightly affected and both elves were laughing loudly quite quickly. At one point Galadhon had come in, obviously patrolling and checking on the dwarves. He had glared at Galion crossly before stomping, as much as any elf could, out of the kitchens and back on patrol.

Now it had grown very late.

'Ah Galion, that is a good wine,' Úroch was saying, and he looked at the deep red colour of the wine appreciatively. 'I haven't had a vintage as good as this for a while.'

'Yes, this is the best year I think, since…well, since the Dragon came certainly. Even before then I think.' Galion smacked his lips together and then belched quietly. Bilbo winced for he had witnessed Galion's manners and it would not have done in the Shire.

'The best year I ever tasted was the saddest year also,' Úroch said, looking troubled. 'The year the Queen was taken from us.' He shook his head. 'A terrible time.' He glanced quickly at Galion and away but Galion was staring into his goblet and did not see that soft look on the cook's face

Bilbo shuffled forwards on his stool. The elves were too far gone to pay any attention to him and he had been able to help himself to food for they would assume they had eaten it during their sampling, he thought. He was curious to hear more for he had only heard hints and suggestions of Mirkwood's history.

'Indeed… I thought we were going to lose Thranduil that year,' Galion said heavily. 'And Legolas. Little mite. There was no one to care. Laersul though, took both the little ones in hand, although Thalos was not so little of course. But I think without him, we would have lost Legolas.'

'Without you, we would have lost them all,' Úroch said with uncharacteristic generosity. 'I remember you dragging him out by his ear almost and shouting at him. Look at yourself!, you said.' He laughed softly. ' _What would our queen have said if she saw what you have become! A nothing! What would your poor dear father say? He would have beaten you soundly until you woke up and saw what you are doing to our Wood_.'

'I do believe that it was not I, but the sight of our boys that brought him back to us,' Galion said but he looked sheepishly proud all the same and so Bilbo thought that what Úroch said was probably true.

'I know that you and I have our differences, Galion,' the cook said, and his words were a little slurred and he had an affectionate look on his face. 'But you shook our dear Aran until his teeth rattled and snapped him out of his misery enough at least to get us back on our feet after our terrible losses.' He sighed. 'We all lost someone you know. I think there was not one family who did not feel the same as he, but he showed us that we would survive it all.'

'Aye. Every one of us.' Galion wiped an eye surreptitiously. 'I know you lost kin as well. And I lost too, but if we lost our Aran we would lose ourselves as well and we could not let the Shadow have everything, damn his blackened soul.'

Úroch tipped the flagon up and held it over his goblet. 'Eru. Do you remember Dagorlad? What a place.' One slow drop crawled to the lip of the flagon and teetered there for a moment before slowly plopping into his cup. Úroch looked disappointed. ' _And_ you took in Anglach. Him and Legolas, poor motherless little tikes the both of them.' He wiped his eye now on his apron and then caught Galion's eye and grinned. 'So it's your fault they've turned out the way they have.'

Galion pushed his chair back and paused for a moment. Then he gave a very loud belch. 'Wood-elves through and through.' He beamed. Rising to his feet, he staggered towards the cellar door and bumped into it before finally making his way into the cellar. Bilbo could hear him selecting another bottle muttering to himself and chinking flagons and bottles.

Much later, Úroch had his head on his arms and was snoring soundly and Galion was still talking to himself, and Bilbo knew that Anglach had brought into the palace any number of black squirrels, baby hedgehogs, deer, mice - mostly with Legolas' collusion until the spider baby; that had not ended well. But more importantly, Bilbo had discovered something; the empty barrels from the King's cellar went down a shute into the forest river, where they were taken to Esgaroth by the raft elves.

Esgaroth, he had discovered before during a conversation between Thalos and Legolas, had a Master with several daughters and a rather wayward wife by the sounds of it. The town lay at the mouth of the unimaginatively named Long Lake. The Long Lake was at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Erebor.

Bilbo squeezed himself with delight; he had a plan. All he needed to do was to get the dwarves from their cells to the shute and pack them into barrels and wait for them to be released into the river. Easy.

He just needed the keys.

Angalch had Thorin's keys. He kept them on a hook in the kitchen so he did not lose them.

Galadhon had the other keys and he kept them on his belt. So he did not lose them.

Bilbo's excitement wore off with the realisation of this. He would never be able to get the keys from Galadhon.

He would have to think of another way.

o0o0o0o


	12. Chapter 12 Anglach

*yaré-carmë : means ancient art. These are the tattoos of the Wood-elves. Legolas' yaré-carmë is described in more detail, how he got it, what it is like, in the chapter in Black Arrow called The Listener. Explict slash so be warned.

This chapter is especially for those readers who have asked for more of Anglach. He has such a brief life

OCs

Laersul- Thranduil's oldest son. Has led the warriors of Mirkwood for centuries, fighting the Shadow. Just sent news that the White Council has driven out the Necromancer

Thalos- middle son who has been asked to go to the dragon to renew the peace between Smaug and the Wood.

Damroch – one of the cooks

Malchir- also a cook

Miriel – a silvan maid

Theliel –another maid. Both friends of Tauriel.

Anglach- Legolas' best friend and ward of the King.

Úroch- chief cook

Alagos – the self-styled King's messenger

 **Chapter 12: Anglach**

When Bilbo crept silently into the kitchen for his midday meal, it was astir and excited. There was a rather frenetic rushing around in the kitchen. Damroch, who was Úroch's son perhaps, thought Bilbo, was in charge and directing the cooks. He was kneading dough on the great wooden table in the centre of the kitchen and there were other cooks beating eggs into bowls, whipping cream into stiff peaks, the kitchen maids were clattering about cleaning the silver platters and dishes. The excitement was because in a chair before the fire was a strange elf that Bilbo did not know. He was the King's messenger and had brought tidings that the King was returning and would be home by nightfall. The messenger's name was Alagos and he was a rather pompous sort, thought Bilbo.

'The King has brought to us the bounty of the Wood,' Alagos was declaring. He had a pewter goblet beside him and a flagon of wine that bore the mark of the Iron Hills. Galion would say it was a decent enough wine for he never stocked anything less, thought Bilbo, who was becoming an expert. 'He himself brought down a mighty boar and Thalos a stag. Although the stag was already weak and had he not brought it down, then the wolves would have had it instead.' Alagos inclined his head at the busy kitchen as though he were intoning an important message from the King himself.

'Plenty of meat to see us through the winter then,' said Damroch, kneading dough with an enthusiasm that was perhaps unnecessary, thought Bilbo. But it seemed that Alagos had been here for some time and Bilbo already found him irritating. Damroch cut a look at Lirewyn, the maid that Anglach was desperately in lust with and had asked Legolas to talk him up. Bilbo had been hiding when Legolas did this and Bilbo thought Anglach really had no chance with her after Legolas' best efforts. She smiled back shyly at Damroch, who was very tall and rather dashing, and Bilbo thought that Anglach had a rival there.

'Of course the King said to me,' Alagos opened his hand in a gesture that was an exact copy of Thranduil's own idiom, 'that the hare I flushed was particularly fine.'

'Oh? You were there as a beater?' Malchir asked innocently, winking at the girls who shook their heads.

'No! Of course not,' Alagos said indignantly. 'I am the emissary of the King, the King's own messenger. Of course I do not beat.'

There was the faintest ripple of amusement from the kitchen-elves that was only interrupted by the sound of merry voices from the cellars. Alagos stiffened visibly and Galion entered with two other elves, both dressed in serviceable tunics and breeches and long waterproof boots that were folded over but could clearly by pulled up to the thigh if need be. Bilbo knew these two were raft-elves who took the empty barrels down to Esgaroth.

'…At least the barrels are low enough in the water that they must be full this time,' Galion was saying loudly and irritably. 'The last time the Master tried to cheat me and frankly, I have had enough. I am quite sure…' He stopped dead when he saw Alagos and Bilbo was reminded of two cats that disliked each other and walked stiff-legged past each other, pretending not to see the other.

'Mind yourselves,' said Malchir who had lifted a batch of hot golden-cursted pies from the big oven in the hearth. He turned and slid them onto cooling racks and Bilbo stared at them hungrily.

Alagos had pointedly turned away and poured himself another cup of wine with a sniff and Galion gave an amused Damroch a mutinous look and carried on his conversation with the raft-elves, for that is who they were, as if he had not noticed. But his voice was smoother, and had a studied calm.

'I hope you checked this time that it IS wine in there, Landaer, not like the last barrel that is being used to flush out the latrines?' he said turning to the foremost raft-elf. 'That stuff from the Iron Hills. I am sure the dwarves have pissed in it. It completely rotted the insides of the barrel.' Galion hid a nasty grin as Alagos paused and looked anxiously into his own cup.

Landaer looked offended. 'Really? I am sure the Men of the Iron Hills do let dwarves anywhere near their wine! And I certainly would not bring inferior products to you.' He huffed and his lean companion looked as offended as Landaer.

But Damroch looked up with a big grin on his face and cast a quick look towards Alagos, who had lifted the flagon and was scrutisining the insignia of the Iron Hills upon it with distaste. 'How would you know it has dwarf piss in it?'

'It turns your own piss green, 'said Galion wickedly and with a dead straight face. 'Oh, pardon me ladies,' he bowed with completely false concern to the kitchen maids, who we well used to Galion and took no notice. But Lirewyn stared aghast, first at Galion and then at Alagos. Who stared back at her, then at his goblet. Then he slowly put it down and his face was a little sickly.

Damroch, right on cue said innocently, 'Lirewyn, did you get rid of all of that last batch? In the Iron Hills barrel?'

'Damn you, Galion, you son of Bauglir!' Alagos said coldly. 'You think your little trick will fool me. It is a good thing that I know when I have had enough. Unlike some I could mention.' With great dignity, he rose to his feet and carefully left amidst quiet laughter that was not entirely kind. Bilbo used the general merriment to cover the theft of one of the venison pies that Malchir had just laid on the cooling racks. It burned his fingers a little and he juggled it from one hand to another until he could scuttle back to his place behind the empty flour barrel and hoped that Alagos would be blamed if they discovered it was missing.

'You had better make sure there is enough wine for the feast, Galion,' warned Malchir when the laughter had died down. 'If you make a mistake, Alagos will use it to get back at you.'

'Oh, Alagos has no power or influence.' Galion waved the very idea away like an irritating fly. 'He says he is the King's messenger but in truth he is just a messenger and has been to Imladris once or twice. Hardly enough to assail me.'

'Even so…' But they never found out what Malchir's warning was going to be because at that moment, Úroch himself hurried in, his hair hastily braided out of his way and his face flushed and harried. 'The King is already here!' he declared. 'Alagos must have tarried and the King caught up. You know how impatient he is. Quickly! Those pies, Damroch. Lirewyn, hurry up with the carrots and greens. Malchir, start the soup! Galion, he will want wine so you had better choose something that is not too strong for the day. He will want something stronger for this evening I am sure. They will be bringing the game through in a moment.'

Sure enough, the elves who had been on the hunt were heard calling to each other, some singing, some laughing and shouting to each other. Bilbo heard Anglach's light voice calling to Legolas and he finished his pie, wiped his mouth and went cheerfully to greet his elves, as he had come to think of them.

He found Galion there before him, fussing around Legolas and insisting he eat something and then go and rest. Legolas endured Galion's fussing and spoke over his head to Anglach.

'You've heard the news?' he asked Anglach excitedly. 'The White Council have driven off the Necromancer! Laersul was there. He had to lead them through the Wood and defend them while they did whatever it was they did. He will be home soon and can tell us all about it!'

'Oh it will not have ended anything,' Galion muttered darkly but Legolas just flashed him a dazzling smile and threw his arm around Anglach's shoulders.

'I am going to bathe Galion, then I promise I will go to bed. Come on, Anglach. I am dying to bathe. I feel like my clothes are stuck to me.'

'You make it sound such an attractive proposition,' Anglach replied wryly. 'Come then, I have finished with the dwarves for the evening although I am on duty every day and night forever if Galadhon has his way,' he added gloomily.

'Go! I have to check that Thranduil has not done anything stupid,' Galion said disrespectfully and waved them away. Legolas pulled Anglach after him, laughing.

'Perhaps we can persuade the King to postpone the Feast of Starlight until Laersul is here?' Anglach looked hopeful, but Legolas shook his head.

'Thalos already tried but Adar wouldn't budge. Thalos told me to try and wheedle him into it. He says I whine Adar into submission!' Legolas exclaimed as if this were hugely unfair. 'But I couldn't persuade him. To be honest, I don't think even you could, Anglach.' They looked glumly at each other.

'Still. That means there will be another feast,' Legolas said brightly.

But Anglach sighed heavily and scuffed his feet. 'Yes. That is true. But unless Laersul arrives in the next few days, I'll get no chance for a feast. Galadhon has put me on eternal Dwarf Duty!'

Legolas laughed as they wound their way through the stronghold towards the Springs. Bilbo had been once before but could not find his way back there since and followed them happily. He was hoping he could learn the way so he could go to the Springs himself when it was empty and bathe. He was tired of just using up left over water that had gone cold and the Springs had looked so inviting. A series of smaller chambers where the heat from the rocks was relaxing and the elves sat and talked and lounged naked on wide shelves carved from the rock, and there were pools too where the water steamed. Bilbo hurried after his two elves.

'Surely you can go when Laersul returns? Even Galdhon is not so hard as to make you miss two feasts?' Legolas took a breath and then turned to Anglach with immense self-sacrifice. 'If he does, I will do your guard duty so you can go to Laersul's feast.'

Anglach gave him a wide smile that was full of the sweetness Bilbo liked so much in Anglach. 'Would you?' But quickly his face fell and he said more seriously,' Actually Legolas, I may not even have a chance for that. It depends how quickly Laersul arrives.'

They turned into a wide passageway that Bilbo knew well – it took them to an chamber that opened out into the cliff face above the Wood. This formed a sort of natural balcony almost and the elves walked along it in bright daylight. Birds were singing in the trees below and the sound of the river rushing over grey granite boulders reached them. Bilbo liked it here and often came to sit quietly and think.

'Galadhon says that he has had letters from Laersul,' Anglach continued quietly and Bilbo had to strain to hear him without getting too close. 'Laersul is anxious about any repercussions from the Necromancer being driven from his fortress. He is worried that the Necromancer will simply decamp somewhere else and Laersul , and Thalos too, want to make sure it is not the East Bight. Or anywhere else in the Wood. Ceredir is going too. And Naurion this time. To be fair, we have had a good long leave. I am surprised you are not coming with me.' He looked at Legolas.

Legolas looked ahead and walked a little more quickly, his fingers worried at the cuff of his tunic. Bilbo had noticed that Legolas had a habit of this and always wanted to stop him when he saw those long, elegant fingers twitch. 'No…The King has asked me to do something else.'

Anglach caught his sleeve and pulled him round. 'Is it…Is it Smaug?' he asked suddenly. 'It is ten years, as good as. Has the King asked Thalos then? Is that why he is staying when we return to the Bight?'

Legolas rubbed his face tiredly as though he had been worrying about the same thing. 'Yes. That is really why Laersul is returning.'

'So all three of you are going this time?' Anglach said quietly. They had stopped and their voices were hushed. Legolas nodded but did not look at Anglach. 'You and Thalos? And only Laersul with the sense he was born with?' Anglach laughed softly. 'You must do as he says, Legolas. Last time you were lost.'

'Aye, and you brought me out. I know.' Legolas put his hand on Anglach's shoulder affectionately. 'I owe you for that.'

'You owe me for much more,' Anglach said brightly. 'If it were not for me, no girl would ever look at your ugly goblin face. I have said before, we should leave you in the mountains for surely you will be welcomed back by your true people and reunited with your true father, the Goblin-King. It's uncanny, the likeness!'

'Legolas! Anglach!'

Bilbo pressed himself silently against the rock wall for there were two elves walking towards them, clearly coming from the Springs for their long hair was damp and one had his shirt slung over his shoulder and only wore loose breeches. 'Well met!' he cried and clapped Legolas on the shoulder. 'It is nice and hot in there.' He smiled suggestively and Legolas looked hopeful. Then he turned to Anglach more sobrely. 'I hear you are going to the Bight as well, Anglach. Let us hope it is an unncesssary precaution.' His companion murmured in agreement and Legolas nodded.

'At least you get to go the Feast of Starlight, Naurion,' Anglach said miserably.

'I heard you had fallen foul of Galadhon,' the other elf said laughing. 'He is a terror when he's crossed.'

'But you could not ask for a better captain. I like serving under him,' Naurion interjected. He gave Anglach a sympathetic look. 'We will see you, Legolas, at the feast.'

'Only if his Nana will let him!' Legolas grinned at Anglach for Nauriel was over-protective and had even, on one occasion, told Laersul he was taking too many risks with her child. Laersul had shrugged it off as his wont, she is just anxious for her only son, he had said to an outraged Legolas. But he heard later that Galion had had an awful row with her and the two were hanraguing each other like fish wives. 'Come on, you're like a Noldor the way you drag your feet to the baths!'

'Goblin-Prince!'

Anglach turned and sprinted lightly along the rest of the passage and burst suddenly into a wide chamber filled with sunlight. It opened out onto the cliff face, high, high above the forest with a wide ledge that jutted conveniently out over the forest canopy. The beeches had turned red and gold and copper in the Autumn and the oaks rattled dry brown leaves heralding the cold of Winter that was almost here. A high waterfall rorared past the cavern opening and plunged into the river below and the elves had to raise their voices to be heard if they stood on the ledge. But within the chamber itself, the roar was dimmed and all was the brightness of the sunlight that poured in through the cavern mouth and split into rainbows from the waterfall's mist. Bilbo gasped; it was beautiful here. He had not been into this chamber before on his last visit to the Springs.

Legolas and Anglach whooped and ran forwards like children, throwing off their clothes as they did. More slowly, Bilbo followed, looking around him. This chamber was a smooth limestone bowl filled with water many shades of bright aquamarine and turquoise. The sunlight shimmered on it and threw shimmering reflections onto the pale stone walls and roof. In the pool sides there were wide shelves or benches that had been carved into the limestone. There were a number of elves already here, some bobbing about in the centre of the pool, which was clearly deep enough to swim in and others lying stretched and sprawled on the wide shelves and talking.

There was a cheerful welcome to Anglach and Legolas who had stripped naked now. There was a shout of protest as they headed straight for the pool and they swerved off to duck beneath a thin waterfall that streamed from a higher ledge.

In the water that streamed over their strong, athletic bodies, the bright colours of their yaré-carmë* was iridescent and swirling, snaked over them as they stood beneath the fall. Bilbo already knew that some of these were the markings of their House and family, and the battles they had fought in, and their own personal history. But they also bore the yaré-carmë that marked them both as Danedh-Amlung, the dragon's ransom. Each was different but had a similar shape, Bilbo saw. But the Ring made him look again, more lustfully and perceived that the colour inked upon their skin showed the dragon in different ways. Anglach's was densely inked, solid colours, iridescent, coiled about his arm and shoulder and trailing around his chest on down the other arm like he wore the dragon over his arms and shoulders. Legolas wore the dragon's outstretched wings over his shoulders and arms, and the dragon's sinuous body coiling around Legolas' waist, his lean hips, thigh, trailed down his long legs. The dragon leaned over his shoulder as if watching everything with an amused and knowing eye. It was sensual on both elves and Bilbo, who had seen them both naked of course, could not help but stare at the sight of them together.

Suddenly they burst from the waterfall and leapt into the water like two happy dogs, splashing and playing. They shouted to each other and to other elves as they splashed and cavorted, regardless of the peace that had shattered on their arrival. One or two elves looked annoyed at having the quiet tranquility disturbed and a couple left, but most welcomed them. Bilbo saw there were as many women as men and all were quite naked. All had markings on their bodies, the women less than the men and some of the men less than others. He wondered what the markings meant on each of them. Gradually he realised he was staring at a number of women's breasts and felt his ears grow hot and a blush spread from his neck and back to his cheeks even though he could not be seen.

He found a quiet ledge where the water was very shallow, at the every edges of the pool and dipped his toes into the water. It was very warm and it smelt of stone, minerals. There was something deeply cleansing about it and he flet some of the tension leave his feet, his shoulders dropped and he let his chin drop a little onto his chest. There must be hot springs here somewhere that heated the pools, he supposed. The dwarves might like it here, he thought. He was sure that Thorin would. He glanced up for it had become very quiet once again.

Legolas was lying back against the far side of the pool where the water was turquoise and light reflected from the water shimmered on the limestone walls. A very beautiful woman was lying nearby him and they were smiling at each other, barely speaking. Suddenly Legolas gasped and twitched and looked at her in a quite different way. His leg moved under the water and Bilbo, to his horror, saw that the woman was pressing her foot against his thigh in a quite provocative way that Legolas did not seem to object to at all. In fact, he was pushing himself into the pressure all the more and had a very lustful expression on his face.

Anglach was in the deeper part of the pool and treading water. Bilbo could see that every now and again he had to stop speaking to move his hands and feet to stay afloat. It was amusing to see his attempt at charming two girls who were drifting nearby. He turned onto his back and floated then, elaborately put his hands behind is head as if he were lying on his own bed and gave them a bright smile. Bilbo recognized one of the girls as one of the bakers and the other was a gardener. So perhaps it would not matter that Lirewyn was being courted by Damroch after all, Bilbo thought. He had seen the baker once find a mouse drowning in a bucket. It must have fallen into the bucket or been _in_ the bucket when someone had filled it with water. The baker though had quietly rescued it and surreptitiously taken it in her pocket out to the small herb garden in the kitchen courtyard. Now she was laughing at Anglach who kept dipping under the water and spluttering, and Bilbo decided she and Anglach would be very nicely suited. He thought the other girl should go and let the two have a chance to get to know each other better.

The ring was warm on his finger and hummed against his skin. Suggestive.

 _Well why not,_ Bilbo thought. _It can't do any harm._ He silently woke the Ring and bent his will towards the other girl.

The Ring thrummed on his finger and Bilbo felt a soft implosion of Power; there was a shrill ringing in his ears and suddenly the other girl leapt up with a scream, she clapped her hands over her ears and heaved herself out of the water. She almost ran from the chamber, leaving the others staring after her astonished.

The shrill ringing stopped. Bilbo blinked and took his hands away from his ears. He shuddered and slipped the Ring halfway off his finger and then stopped. He could not be discovered now; Thorin needed him. Slowly he pushed the Ring back onto his finger.

The other elves were exclaiming and questioning each other in astonishment. It seemed that no one else had heard the shrill ringing but Bilbo and the giril.

'What did you do?' one elf asked Anglach accusingly.

'I did nothing,'Anglach replied indignantly. 'Rhossa, tell them!' He appealed to the baker he had been flirting with.

But Rhossa too was getting out of the pool and would not look at him. Anglach stood up, reached out to her but she glanced once at him and shrank away from his hand. Anglach stared around him, bewildered. 'I didn't do anything,' he said loudly. 'She just suddenly jumped up as if something had bitten her. You saw!'

But some elves muttered disapprovingly and others looked at Anglach as if surprised. Quickly there was a space around him and Legolas, with a regretful look at the woman he was flirting with, pushed off from the ledge upon which he had been sitting and swam quickly to where Anglach was pulling himself out of the water.

Anglach sat on the edge of the pool looking dejected. 'Honestly Legolas, I really did nothing. We were all having a nice time and suddenly she…well, you saw.' He kicked the water with his foot. 'She is Galadhon's cousin and Thalos will hear of this as well. I will be in even more trouble. At this rate, I will never go to another feast. Ever, and end my days a lonely old bachelor with only you for company.'

Legolas pulled himself a little out of the water to lean his elbows on the edge of the pool and stared at Anglach thoughtfully. 'There is something odd,' he said slowly. 'You remember I _felt_ something in my rooms?' He looked round carefully and lowered his voice as if he thought there might be an eavesdropper. 'Thalos felt something too. He said it was like being in the South, near Dol Guldur.'

Anglach shuddered. 'But the Necromancer had been vanquished according to the White Council. Surely it cannot be that his reach is long enough to be here when he has been driven out?'

Legolas shrugged. 'Don't forget, Adar says that driven out is not the same as vanquished.' Anglach nodded slowly. 'Be on your guard when you go back to the Bight,' Legolas said earnestly. He reached out and clasped Anglach's arm. 'Listen to me,' he said suddenly. 'Be careful. I do not want orcs to cut off your pretty ears just because I am not there!' He reached up and tweaked Anglach's ears for emphasis.

Suddenly the world tilted for Bilbo and he shut his eyes tightly, squeezed his hands together over the Ring for he was plunged _Somewhere Else_.

 _He was running. Running, running harder, faster than he had ever done before, shouting, arrows firing! Firing! Firing! Chasing orcs off, not caring if they fought, just wanting to fight his way through! And the stink. Stumbling into the clearing, tripping on his own feet at the sight of…_

 _Anglach._

 _No._

 _Tied to a tree, head bowed. Blood. Blood everywhere, down his neck, his chest. His head lolled to one side and he saw the flat edge where his ear should be. An empty, bloody mess where his eye should be. Blood everywhere. His belly spilled out a ribbon of entrails._

 _No._

 _There were voices. Shouting. Other elves._

 _'Naurion? Where's Naurion? They have taken Naurion?'_

 _And someone knelt beside Legolas where he cut blindly at the tight bonds that held Anglach to the tree. He heard someone cursing and sobbing and realized it was Galadhon beside him, hacking at the bonds with him. Anglach's still warm body collapsed into his arms and he clasped him to his chest, moaning, No! No, no._

Bilbo fell back and almost cried out.

'Who's there?' Legolas had leapt from the pool and strode towards Bilbo, his long green eyes scanning the chamber which was well lit and light and airy. No place to hide, thought Bilbo and he clutched at his hand, holding onto the Ring. But he was even more afraid of the Ring taking him to where the Presence lurked, aware of him and waiting, so he kept his eyes wide open and fixed upon Legolas. Even though he had no knives or weapons, a stark naked and dripping wet Legolas Thranduillion was enough to root Bilbo to the spot. He thought to himself that this was the second time he had been confronted by a naked Legolas. He knew there were some in the stronghold who could think of nothing better but they were not a hobbit hiding in the King's stronghold about to bust the dwarves out.

Anglach looked around at Legolas, puzzled and some of the other elves murmured and looked askance at Legolas now. But no others seem to have sensed what Legolas did and Bilbo held still. Legolas took a couple more steps towards Bilbo and then stood still, frowning and scanning the chamber for movement.

At last Legolas visibly relaxed and shaking his head, he returned to Anglach.

 _Anglach,_ thought Bilbo. _What happened?_ He had seen Anglach dead, tied to a tree, his ears cut off and his eyes empty, gouged out, a great gash in his belly…

Legolas had turned back to Anglach and fell to his knees beside his friend. 'Anglach! Be careful!' he said urgently, as if he too had foreseen what Bilbo had and Bilbo wondered if that too was in the Ring's gift. 'When you go back to the Bight, I will not be there to watch your back,' he said urgently.

'Of course I will be careful,' Anglach said mildly. 'And you too? You are going into far greater danger than me. I have Galadhon to watch my back,' he grinned. 'And Naurion. And I will not be there to drag you out and Laersul cannot carry both you and Thalos.'

The two friends paused, looking at each other and then Anglach laughed softly. 'You're going to kiss me now, aren't you?'

He leaned forward as if that was exactly his intention and Legolas pulled back a little at first. But instead Anglach launched himself onto Legolas and shoved him underwater until Legolas wriggled out, spluttering and shaking himself.

But Bilbo was shaken. He found he could not bear it and ran from the place, stumbling and blinded by tears. He found himself in a small empty chamber where no one ever had reason to come and pulled the Ring from his finger in distress. He stared at it in bewilderment; he knew it brought insight to him into the motivations and thoughts of others but now he had foreseen Anglach's death! And he thought Legolas might have too. Or did Legolas just imagine what could happen and the Ring had amplified that and let Bilbo see what Legolas imagined?

Perhaps Anglach will not die, he thought. Perhaps he will not, he hoped.

 _He will die as you saw._

Bilbo put a fist to his mouth to stop the cry that was forcing its way out of his belly.

 _You could stop it._

'How could I stop it, a Hobbit from the Shire? I am nobody.'

 _Thorin could. With the Ring, Thorin could be the greatest King Middle Earth has ever seen. He could outshine the Kings of Numenor. He could outshine those elven Kings of Old, Fingon the Valiant, Gil-Galad. He could bring peace and the merry elves of the Wood need never lift bow or knife again...Anglach will live._

Bilbo found himself staring at the Ring. Yes. That could be the way. If Thorin was King, he could have an army to keep the peace between all the folk of the Wilds. The elves could live in peace in the Wood, and the dwarves in the Mountain. And the Orcs?

 _There will be no need for Orcs if Thorin has a Ring of Power. He will be unassailable..._

Bilbo stared at the Ring. It was so smooth. Such purity. Such gold…so precious.

 _Thorin is more powerful than you. He would know how to use the Ring…He could make it stronger._

But it was beautiful, the Ring. Bilbo loved it. He stroked his finger over the gold and lost himself in the purity and loveliness so that he forgot all about Anglach and thought only of the Ring.

0o0oo0

Next Chapter: The Feast of Starlight

I know I said that last time but Anglach really wanted a bit more of the spotlight.


	13. Chapter 13 Escape from the Halls of the

Thank you to everyone who reviewed or left kudos on this little fic. It does encourage all writers so I really appreciate it even if it's just a quick line to say you liked it.

Especial thanks to Anarithilen although we're working on something else now so this chapter is unbeta'd.

Also thanks to the following for their kind words and support:Nako13yeh, Freddie23, firerosedreamer67, lotrfn. On Ao3, jessieb,zimtlimo, legio and all the guests who left kudos, and especially to samui_sakura, Laynewolf, Himring, and on Faerie, Spiced Wine, Cheekybeak, Naledi, Arasa17, Ysilme, Kalendeer, rikwen96, fadesintothewest. I admit I'm a bit disappointed that perhaps this fic didn't hit the right spot for people –but I enjoyed writing a fluffy Legolas rather than the usual, and I did enjoy the daftness of Anglach.

 **Chapter 13: The Feast of Starlight**

Anglach stood miserably, head slightly bowed and shoulders drooped. If Galadhon had not been in such a bad mood, feeling out of sorts and had argued with his pregnant wife so he felt bad about that, he might not have taken it out on Anglach.

But he had and he did. So thought Bilbo as he listened and watched from his quiet corner near the guardroom. Anglach had worsened an already bad situation by complaining how Galadhon was treating the dwarves. He had said they should be allowed outside to breathe the air and to stretch their legs and Galadhon had said something about how short their legs were anyway and they did not need much space and since Anglach was so so concerned, he could take over guard duty for all of them!

Now Galadhon was clenching his fists and barking orders that had Anglach flying around trying to obey them. Bilbo felt sorry for Anglach and wondered if there was a way to use the Ring to help, but after his attempt to help him in the Springs, he though the had best let matters take their course. Anyway, if all went to plan tonight, they would not be bothering the elves again!

He spent a restless day waiting. The palace was in a state of restrained frenzy preparing for the feast although there was already enough food prepared and ready to feed an army of hobbits, thought Bilbo. He wandered through the chambers, watching elves decorating the halls with green boughs of holly and ivy, winding it with red velvet ribbons and gold threads to make it sparkle. It was much like Yule in the Shire. And suddenly he was struck with homesickness.

In the Shire they would be bringing in the Yule log, pulling it from the edges of the Old Wood into Brandybuck Hall, or from Farmer Maggot's wood to the Green Dragon. There would be glass baubles hanging from the pine and fir branches, and mistletoe from the doorways of the hobbit holes. Ale and wine mulled slowly over the fires and the air would be filled with the smell of roasting meat and vegetables and thick gravy.

Slowly he realised that what he was seeing in the Hall of the Elvenking was not so different. Glass globes were being strung over the ceilings from the delicate filigree of stalactites and boughs of deep green fir and pine hung over the banqueting table. The yule log was already in the huge hearth ready to warm the feasters and instruments were being tuned and turned ready for the evening. There was mulled wine and cakes for the elves decorating the hall and the cooks were hard at work. In the air was a lovely smell of roasting pork and venison, the spice of mulled wine and the freshness of the pine boughs. Bilbo wished he were not leaving this evening. He wished he could stay and did not have to face the dragon. But there was Thorin.

Thorin had turned inwards and brooding. When Bilbo scrambled up to peer into his cell, Thorin was sitting at the far end with the torch lit and the light casting a golden glow onto his face. It made his eyes look deeper and emphasised the fine bones of his face, reflected in his dark eyes like he already saw the dragon's gold. _His_ gold. When he heard Bilbo scrambling at the door, he swung his head round suspiciously, as if _something_ was whispering into the secrets of his heart, corrupting his simple desire for home into something more, something jealous, something darker.

But when he saw it was Bilbo, Thorin's face was transformed. His smile reached his eyes and he seemed younger, less careworn. He came striding over to the door to press close. So close that Bilbo could almost feel the heat from his body. 'Bilbo!' he cried. He looked at the hobbit with warmth and Bilbo felt his heart leap at Thorin's obvious delight in seeing him. 'Are we ready? Have you told the others?' he said and Bilbo nodded. But Thorin wanted to know every detail, how each dwarf reacted, what they said, how enthused they had been at the prospect of escape and Bilbo had already begun to hide things. He did not tell Thorin how Kili had sighed and asked if they might be passing back this way if they failed. For Bilbo had begun to see that Thorin would see such words as treason.

Treason.

Betrayal.

For to even consider they might fail made Thorin rage. So Bilbo told him that the company was as ready as he, that they were desperate to escape that they were still committed, would die in the attempt… and in his homely hobbit heart, he hoped that none of them would.

He spent one last evening watching his elf friends, Legolas had been out with other young elves and this time Anglach too, for he was not on duty until later. They returned from outside with flushed happy faces and smelt of the wind and forest. Thalos was more subdued but Bilbo knew that he was thinking of the pledge he must make to Smaug and wished he could tell Thalos that he had been spared, that the dwarves were going to kill Smaug so he would not have to. But most of all, oddly enough, he wanted to tell Thranduil.

Like a guest who has overstayed his welcome, Bilbo felt he should in some way, bid farewell to his host. And he thought he would never see the King again and so he stole to his throne room and stood for a while, gazing up at the carven throne where it rose out of the rock, and thought about Thranduil.

0o0o

At last it was evening and the feast was well under way. Bilbo could hear singing and laughing and music although he dared not peek in for he had work to do this night. The cooks had finally made their last preparations and the last dishes had been taken up to the feast. Anglach was almost the only one left not at the feast for the kitchen-elves were almost done. Bilbo felt very guilty for what he intended but he had to help Thorin and Durin's Day was almost upon them.

Damroch and Malchir were still in the kitchen but just wiping their hands and finishing off.

'Go on then,' Úroch said briskly and flicked a cloth towards them dismissively and the pair went off, loudly thanking Úroch and heaping all kinds of blessings upon him. Úroch merely grunted at them in a kindly way and went about tidying and clearing things until all was spick and span and clean to his satisfaction. He was just about to leave when Galion arrived, more than a little drunk. With him were two of his own cellarmen, Legolas and Anglach called them his henchmen but it was affectionate. They went into the cellar and at Galion's direction, filled great flagons to take back up to the feast while Galion pulled up a chair and sank into it, leaning his elbows on the table and sinking his chin into his hands. He was already quite deeply into his cups, thought Bilbo a little alarmed for he did not think he would have another chance and Anglach was nowhere to be seen and Bilbo's plan depended on Anglach being sufficiently unaware so that Bilbo could steal the keys.

'Here. Try this,' Galion said and poured a generous cup of a deep red wine. Úroch took it from him and sipped at it, rolling it around his mouth appreciatively.

'Very good stuff!' he said and quickly drained the lot. 'I doubt I will have this upstairs.'

'No. This is for the King's table I am afraid,. I won't waste it on riff-raff such as you,' he smiled though and picked up the flagon, rising to his feet.

Galion looked at Úroch and said, 'I have a consignment of empty barrels that have to go on the tide tonight or they will not be in Lake-town in time for the new consignment of Dorwinion. I will need Damroch and Malchir to help me move them. The King is very partial to it and we have another feast when Laersul returns. Are they going to be able to help?'

This was good news, though Bilbo, barrels to Laketown tonight would mean the dwarves would reach Erebor by Durin's Day!

Úroch wiped his hands on his apron and untied its strings. 'They will help today but just this once. I know you are short-handed. Come, let us go and join in the fun.' He gave one last quick glance around the kitchens and at a word from him, the globes that gave out light dimmed and Bilbo was plunged into darkness.

But he had found out another extra power the Ring gave him was that he could see perfectly well in the dark and in fact, living things gave off a sort of phosphorescence that he could not see in the daylight. They glowed. He assumed that this is what had helped Gollum to see his prey and finish them off silently and without being discovered. Now it meant he could see his way quite clearly to the cellar where the empty barrels were standing ready to be transported to Esgaroth. He peered inside and thought that the dwarves could easily fit inside, one each and although the barrels smelled pungently, it was wine and he thought they might withstand that. Better than fish, he told himself. He cast about for a mechanism to release the barrels into the river and saw a long lever with bronze cogs and wheels. Gingerly he touched the lever and pressed it gently. Immediately there was a whirring and slow grinding of gears and the floor beneath the barrels began to shift. Quickly he shoved the lever back up so none of the barrels disappeared before he was ready.

He stood back, a pleased smile on his face. Now all he had to do was get the keys. It was all falling into place, almost too convenient. Almost as if some other Power was directing matters, as if something was influencing the elves and making things happen. Galadhon's insistence that Anglach serve guard duty on all the dwarves and miss the feast so everyone else could go, was because Galadhon was out of sorts and very grumpy, thought Bilbo. It was almost as though…No, he thought. He shook his head. Sometimes things just happen. It was just luck that meant Anglach was on duty and it would be easier to get the keys from him than Galadhon.

And then he stopped.

Anglach was already in so much trouble. Bilbo wondered what the punishment would be if the dwarves escaped from under his nose. He might well be accused of letting them out, knowing his softness for the dwarves and his earlier argument with Galadhon.

It was enough to make Bilbo pause. Anglach's kindness would bring trouble upon him.

 _But Thorin must be King Under the Mountain_ , whispered the voice. _Durin's Day is almost upon us and you will not have another chance. Anglach is blessed. The King loves him. He will come to no harm._

But the images of Legolas running through the forest to Anglach's side haunted him again and he saw Anglach's body, still warm and pliable, collapse into Legolas' arms, the bloody mess where his eyes and ears should be coating Legolas' hands, his chest with blood.

Bilbo plopped down onto the ground and held his head in his hands. There must be another way that did not incriminate Anglach, surely?

 _Durin's Day is almost upon us. Thorin must be King under the Mountain._

Slowly Bilbo rose, heaviness dragged at him like lead weights but he could not betray Thorin. He felt his feet take him silently to the kitchen again and there was Anglach, preparing a supper for Thorin as he always did. Anglach was humming quietly as he went about gathering a small number of tasty danities that had been rejected as too imperfect for the feast. The keys dangled from his belt alluringly and Bilbo knew he would have to wait until Anglach returned from checking on the dwarves. In spite of his disappointment at being deprived of going to the feast, Anglach began whistling cheerily and made his way through the kitchen doors towards Thorin's cell.

Bilbo sat down to wait and wondered how he would manage to get the keys from Anglach's belt without at all raising his suspicion.

 _The Ring has Power. It can help._

Bilbo shuddered for the last time it had ended with a girl running away and screaming. He did not want that for Anglach.

As it happened, he did not need to for there was a clatter of feet and someone called softly through the passageway.

'Anglach?'

Bilbo recognised Legolas' voice and sure enough, Legolas himself came into the kitchen and looked about for Anglach. In his hand was a small tray filled with food and a flagon of wine. He reached into a cupboard and brought out a goblet which he put on the table next to the tray. Bilbo's mouth watered and had he not been so well fed by skulking about the kitchens himself, he would have happily helped himself to the rich delicacies and dainty treats that Legolas had brought for his friend. Legolas amused himself while waiting for Anglach by playing a game of Five Finger Fillet, where he stabbed his knife down between his fingers without touching them as fast as he could. Bilbo could not watch and winced. He could hear the knock knock knock knock of the knife hitting the table until Legolas gave a small yelp and stopped.

The elf sighed heavily and wandered about the kitchen nosily. He opened doors and cupboards and even the oven. Then he sat down heavily and began juggling with his own knives. Then he fetched the filleting knives and began juggling with them until finally Anglach was heard coming down the dwarves' corridor and whistling cheerfully.

'Legolas! Why are you here and not at the feast?'

'I have brought you something to eat, from the King's table. I thought to keep you company for a while,' Legolas said and smiled.

'You don't have to do that, Legolas,' Anglach said but he looked so pleased and Bilbo saw Legolas' kindly face smile in response. It only made it worse that he was going to try and trick his elf-friends into giving up the keys and releasing the dwarves on their watch.

'Come on. Galion has opened up a new cask of Dorwinion,' Legolas said. 'I think we should taste a little to go with our supper. He has already had a little taste with Úroch I think, to help them wth their labour!' He laughed and led Anglach into a small cellar. They sat down at a small table where two large flagons were set. Legolas had seized two goblets from the kitchen and set about pouring them a generous glass each. Soon they were laughing and talking merrily and the first goblet was drained.

'I think we had better stop,' said Anglach responsibly and put his hand over his goblet as Legolas lifted the heavy flagon once again. 'I am on duty after all. Even this one is more than I should have.'

Bilbo's plan suddenly looked to falling apart. But he found his fingers stroking the Ring almost unconsciously and felt its Power awaken;Bilbo hesitated, remembering the last time but now, it seemed the Ring seemed to have learned too and Bilbo felt the lightest stroke brush against his own mind. And then a thought coalesced in Anglach's , just the lightest brush, mere suggestion;

 _It is the Feast of Starlight and you have been deprived of going by your jealous captain. The least you can do is have a drink with your friend._

'Very well,' Legolas was sighing and returning the flagon to the table. 'Shall I let you get back then and I will return to the feast?'

But Anglach stayed his hand. 'I suppose one more will not hurt,' he said slowly and blinked as if he were surprised by the words leaving his mouth.

So Legolas poured another glass each. 'We will drink it slowly and only have the one,' he said.

They sipped their wine painfully slowly and Bilbo got cramp waiting for them but at last it appeared they were about half empty. Now hobbits Bilbo can be as stealthy as elves are sharp-eared and when Bilbo deliberately cast a small stone in another direction, both elves looked that way, although not alarmed, and he filled their goblets over. He did this three times, with a different object, or with a scuff of his feet, and one time he crept into the kitchen and banged the pots so both went to the kitchen to see who was there. Each time, Legolas and Anglach's reactions were slower and more blurred for this was a heady wine not intended for the goblets they used but small fluted glasses at the feast for the end of the feast and drunk lightly as a toast, or with fine mature cheeses in little sips.

'I have to say…' Anglach's speech was slurred and his head nodding by now. 'Your my bes' fren' Leglas. My very be' fren'…' And he emitted a loud belch which had them both giggling stupidly.

'An' you're my bes' fren' too Ang..Ang-lack,' Legolas managed after several goes. He hiccupped and looked glassily into his goblet. 'How come I feel so…very very….hiccuppy,' he giggled, 'when I have only had…' He squinted into the goblet suspiciously, 'two cups?' And at that he looked across to Anglach whose head was on the table and snoring. Legolas blinked owlishly and looked at the flagon. He pulled it over towards him and peered into it. 'Elbereth's tits,' he swore. 'Anglach,' he shook Anglach blearily. 'Anglach? We've drunk almost all of this…Eru, I feel…'

He shoved the chair out and tried to stand up but crashed into the side of the table. Bilbo bit his lip in consternation and wrung his hands. But there was nothing he could do now; it was for Thorin.

'Shit, we are goin' to be…' Legolas belched loudly and then put his hand over his mouth. He looked a bit green. 'In so much trouble…Better check on…dwarves.' He swayed and fell against the big ceramic sink with the pump. 'Better have some water. Sober up.' He splashed water on his face and then into his goblet, drank it quickly and then another. He left a cup on the table and lurched from the kitchen and staggered down the passageway. Surprisingly he made it to the cells and managed to peer glassily into the grilles to be met with a load of abuse from Dwalin as usual. Legolas' head wobbled a little and he gave a nasty smile and stuck his middle finger up at Dwalin and then grinned. He turned and staggered clumsily back to the kitchen and crashed into to the chair and blinked again as if he might clear his head. Seeing the goblet of water, he drank it quickly, Bilbo watched wincing and feeling terrible for of course he had filled it again with the heady wine.

Legolas looked at his fingers as if they belonged to someone else. His head rolled a little and he swayed. Then he put his head on his arms and he too fell fast asleep.

In no time, Bilbo was trotting as fast as he could along the passages towards the cells. The great bunch of keys was heavy and clinked however much he tried to stop it, and his heart was in his mouth. He could not prevent the keys making a loud clink every now and again though he pressed them against his chest.

First he unlocked Balin's door and locked it again after him carefully as soon as the Balin and Dwalin were outside. While they were busy congratulating him and patting him on the shoulder, he quickly went about unlocking the rest of the cells.

'Bundle your blankets up so it looks like you are still here,' he urged them. 'If someone looks in then they will think you are sleeping.' And he hoped very much that Galadhon or Thalos might do just that and at least share the blame with Legolas and Anglach.

When they finally reached Thorin's cell, there were tears and deep emotion. Balin held Thorin long and in a hard embrace. He stepped back and nodding said, 'We will make it in time, Thorin. We will be in Erebor in time to find the door.'

'Only if you come with me quickly, now and a bit more quietly than usual!' Bilbo said in an unusually bossy tone for he was anxious that Galadhon might well check up on Anglach. 'And don't make so much noise! These are elves, not orcs and they can hear a pin drop!'

'Do as he says,' Thorin said quickly and Bilbo led them off as quietly as twelve dwarves could, back down past the kitchen and to the cellars.

He peered into the small room where Legolas and Anglach sat snoring and quickly dived in and carefully replaced the keys on Anglach's belt. 'Let them work out how the dwarves have escaped without keys,' he thought. 'At least they might not in so much trouble now.' But he knew that Anglach would be in the biggest trouble of his life and for a moment, he remembered the dreadful scene he had seen through Legolas' eyes and felt tears prick at him.

'Bilbo.' A voice called that pulled on him, that he could not ignore. Thorin.

He took one last look at his two friends and thought he would never see them again and hoped, trusted the King's blindness where Anglach was concerned, pitied Legolas for he was not so favoured, then turned and left.

'What were you doing?' Dwalin asked aggressively but Thorin turned to him with his deep eyes.

'Our burglar has got us this far, _sannadidith_.' He clasped Dwalin's shoulder and gazed into his face. 'We will trust him. And that elf-guard was not so bad,' he added more grudgingly. He glanced at Bilbo as he said this and smiled wryly. 'Come Master Baggins, we follow your lead!'

With a little more courage after Thorin's words, Bilbo hustled them into the wine cellar where his empty barrels stood waiting. But as soon as the dwarves saw the barrels they baulked and Fili and Kili bumped into Bifur, Bofur and Bombur and Gloin started to complain and even Balin looked askance at Bilbo.

'We shall be bruised and battered and drowned too, for certain,' murmured Oin and Bofur started complaining more loudly and with even more bluster than usual.

'I thought you had got hold of a raft,' Bombur said mildly. 'I am rather afraid that Oin is right.'

But it was Dwalin who surprised everyone and said, 'Where is your _Khazad-barathaz!'_ He spat into the sawdust and glared at them. 'Would you rather linger here and let Durin's Day pass without note? Well, you just shuffle back to your cells and let the nice gaoler take care of your shit and piss and Thorin, Bilbo and me will go on and kill the dragon!'

There was an embarrassed silence and Dwalin smiled scarily. 'This is our only chance, brothers! Come!' And he threw off a lid from one barrel and Thorin gave him a leg up into it. Dwalin disappeared head first and they heard and muffled thump and scrambling around until he got settled. Immediately the other dwarves followed suit and with much noise and thuds and squawks as Fili got into an already inhabited barrel and Kili stepped on Balin's foot, after much fuss and noise they were all safely ensconced in a barrel each.

'It's not so bad,' chirped Kili. 'It smells of wine. There's some left here too.' There was the sound of slurping and soon Fili was copying him. Bilbo was rushing around finding straw and sawdust, wood shavings that would pack the dwarves more comfortably.

At last Bilbo had secured the last lid on the last barrel and stood there looking at his handiwork with some pride and even as he did, he realised the flaw in his plan; where was he going to go?

From the kitchen came voices then, a snatch of a merry song and laughter broke out. The kitchen elves must be returning! thought Bilbo panicked. But the voices came closer and there were soon lights flickering on the walls and Damroch came in followed by Malchir. With them were the two raft-elves who Bilbo had seen with Galion once before, Landaer and Bilbo had forgotten the other one's name.

'Where's Galion?' Damroch asked, looking about. 'He should be here to make sure we get the right barrels. He was complaining the ones that came up were too light. I would hate to get ones that are too heavy going back to Laketown!'

'He was flirting with Finariel, silly old fool. He knows she is married and would no more look at him than a goblin.'

'He is just flirting,' Damroch said a little more gently.

'Well he should be here. It will take ages otherwise,' said Malchir grumpily. 'I want to get back to the feast. We've spent days sweating over cooking it and I want to enjoy it now. Come on, let's just get on with it.'

At that moment, Galion blundered in, clearly worse for wear and fumbling about in the kitchen for an empty jug.

'Come on, you old villain ' Malchir said impatiently to Galion. 'We have been waiting.'

'Wha'? I am getting more wine for the King,' Galion slurred a little and held up the empty jug as if this were evidence.

'For yourself more like,' Damroch said.

'Come along, Galion. Tell us what to take for I would not wish to take the wrong barrels,' said Landaer.

'I am just getting a little Dorwinion for Thranduil,' Galion said but he swayed a little as he spoke and waved the jug around. The other raft-elf caught it and held Galion still. Galion looked at him, then brought his face a bit closer to peer at him.

'Unhand me, you fiend.' He belched loudly and the raft-elf pulled back in disgust. 'You will not prevent me from serving my old friend, the King, the very finest wine the Wood has to offer.' He swayed a little more.

'Were you planning to have a little feast all on your own in the wine cellar?" Damroch asked amused. Malchir grinned and Galion looked mightily affronted.

'On my own?' he demanded. 'Why in Namo's stinking arsehole would I be on my own?'

The second raft-elf looked offended and Damroch and Malchir looked at each other in faintly shocked amusement.

' _You_ are the ones who are late,' Galion said with huge impertinence. 'Landaer, me and…' He squinted at the second raft-elf and shook his head. 'Landaer, me and what'sisname had to go looking for you two clowns. It's a good thing you are here and we can all get back to the feast.'

He lurched towards the barrels and tapped one on its side. Fortunately it was an empty one and sounded hollow. 'Here, get them all lined up Landaer. Show them how it's done.'

Landaer and his companion, who introduced himself to Damroch and Malchir as Amarben, hauled the barrels to the trap door and Malchir and Damroch lashed them together into a sort of raft. Even for elves this proved hard work for of course twelve of the barrels had heavy dwarves in them.

'Is that all of them?' asked Landaer. He looked quizzically at the barrels. 'Save us, Galion! Are you sure these are empty? You began your feasting early and muddled your wits! You have stacked full ones in here instead of empty ones if there is nothing in weight.'

Galion looked offended. 'Do you think I would send full barrels back to the Master of Laketown when he has tried so hard to cheat me already?' He drew himself up to his full height to look own his nose at Amarben. 'I think not!' he said with as much dignity as he could muster, and turned to walk off but the exit was rather spoiled when he walked straight into the last barrel, which happened to be Dwalin's. There was a muffled squawk and Bilbo was sure they would be discovered but Galion was so busy shouting curses and swearing that Dwalin's own rather colourful expletives were quite lost.

'Very well, answered Landaer, rolling a barrel to the opening. 'On your head be it if the kings butter-tubs and his best wine is pushed into the river for the Lake men to feast upon for nothing.'

Damroch and Amarben each seized long and heavy poles that were stored on hooks above the trap door and levered the barrels through the trap doors and Malchir gave one a push or a shove here or there when it looked like one was going to miss the trap door. One by one the barrels rumbled over the planks of the trap door and splashed heavily into the dark, fast flowing river. They sank first and then bobbed up quickly just as Bilbo was thinking that the dwarves might well bob up the wrong way round, and be head first in the water. He hoped they had enough room to make sure they could breathe.

Bilbo watched with trepidation as each of the dwarves' barrels bumped and splashed down into the dark forest river, thudding into one another, smacking into the water, jostling against each other and bobbing away down on the current.

The water was deep and cold, black in the darkness and Bilbo peered down into its depths, watching as each barrel floated away on the strong current. Galion and the other elves were arguing again that some of the barrels were lying too heavily in the water. By now the barrels had all bumped up against the iron grille that lay across the forest river's course as it flowed beneath the hill and stopped enemies from entering the stronghold. Galion was shouting rudely at Amarben as he hauled on the rope that would lift the grille and Bilbo knew he had no choice but to jump into the river if he was to stay with the dwarves.

He took one glance back at the wine cellar, at the huge barrels and dusty flagons and bottles, at Galion hauling on the rope, and Damroch and Malchir who worked in the kitchens. He thought of Anglach and Legolas, fast asleep in their drunken stupor, of Thalos and his errand that perhaps the dwarves' escape might spare him. He thought of Miriel and Theliel and Tauriel, and all the elves he had 'met' and liked. And then he looked down into the deep dark river, and jumped.

The water hit him, freezing cold, and knocked all the air from his lungs. He dunked under and struggled to get back up into the air. His head came up and his lungs were bursting. He took a huge gulp of air that was half water, ahlf air and was pulled under again but the current that swept him away and he crashed into the iron portcullis, pinned there by the strength of the water.

And then it seemed the water itself swirled and writhed around him. Like a sinuous beast, like an otter, it leapt and curled and pulled him down. He felt magic tug at him, pull him back, throw him up to the surface and drag him under again. And then he was pinned against the iron grille easily seen by the raft elves. It felt like the gates, he thought in one still coherent and functioning part of his brain. where he was held under for a moment like he was pinned.

 _You shall not pass!_

That strange, sonorous voice was in his mind again, the same at the gates. Suddenly it seemed that roots broke from the stone bed of the river, surged upwards and clawed at him.

 _You shall not pass._

The weeds of the river curled around his ankles and dragged him down with sinuous tendrils, wrapped about his ankles and suddenly writhed upwards, seeking to hold him. Bilbo stared in horror and suddenly, as before, Sting was in his hand and he slashed downwards. For a moment the Gates' roots and river weeds drew back and Bilbo was hurled forwards against against the iron grill. And then suddenly there was a grating of iron over stone and the water rushed him away, tumbling and turning and he thought he would drown…

Suddenly his hand caught on something and he was rolled and lifted up onto a barrel and clung to the ropes that lashed the barrels together. He rose gasping and spluttering into the air and was dragged through the cold black water. The roots of trees and bright green river weeds reached and tangled with his legs and arms but he clung tightly to the ropes and suddenly he burst free from the tunnel and above him were hard, bright stars, around him were trees and water and he was rushed along the riverbank, sometimes above water and sometimes the barrel rolled and dunked him under again. But they were free. They had escaped and were on the way again to Erebor.

He heard the beat of his heart in his chest and was glad to be alive. This _adventure_ that he had so reluctantly embarked upon, was drawing to its destination; in the far distance, he could see the head of the Lonely Mountain rise up in the moonlight, its peak gilded silver with the hard, bright stars like diamonds crowning it. And somewhere, deep in its heart, was a dragon.

Translations according to Neo-khuzdul dictionary. (Not perfect but enough)

 _Khazad-barathaz! Khazad blood oath_

 _Sannadidith- perfect brother_

The End.

(To be continued again in Black Arrow, which tells the story from the Wood-elves perspective and in which Thranduil discovers the dwarves have escaped and he decides he must send Thalos to Smaug before the dwarves awaken the dragon's anger; the subsequent events including the return of the Arkenstone to Thranduil in circumstances even stranger than it came to him the first time.)


End file.
